


Longing After You

by ZiamFeather



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2012, Angst, F/M, Longing, M/M, Smut, how tf do I even tag?, if you're here for larry you'll be disappointed, larry - Freeform, longing after you, only briefly though, this is so much angst I'm sorry, zarry is the purest of friendships, ziam, ziam 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZiamFeather/pseuds/ZiamFeather
Summary: Zayn’s longing after Liam, longing for him. It’s like an addiction in his bones, a craving in his chest. Zayn needs him, like the air in his lounges or the blood pumping in his veins.He’s falling - hard, with no ground beneath to hit.[Or the one where Zayn’s going through a discovery of longing and angst and seriously needs to learn how to talk with people. And Liam’s got Danielle and doesn’t seem to notice a thing.But then maybe, in the end, they’re both just afraid.]





	Longing After You

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo again. It was a while ago, wasn't it? Hahah you remember that oneshot I posted ages ago that was a part of a longer story? Well... Here it is! Ehm it took only a biiiit longer to write than planned... heh.. 
> 
> Anyways This is a fanfiction set in the year in 2012 (or should I say the year of Ziam?) inspired by some real events that took place that summer, so if you're up to dates with what went on that year you'll recognize some parts of this fic. ;)
> 
> Before we get on to the story, I'll just mention the usual disclaimer that I do not own one direction in any way and am only writing for my personal entertainment. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy reading this fic just as much that I've enjoyed writing it. It is something which have lain in my drafts for a long time and writing the last sentence was something which I find very hard to explain... But now it's done and I'll just have to find a way to get on with my life...
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! <3

||>~<||

Falling in love isn't a thing that happens all at once

It happens just as the term describes, a constant falling, further and further down,

with no ground, beneath to hit.

||>~<||

 

Zayn watches him where he moves across the stage, watches the way his face is lit up by an inner gleam. A gleam that has his whole face to shine, and his eyes to glisten. Watches the soft plump lips, which are parted in a huge warm smile and are showing off a perfect set of white teeth. The way his soft brown eyes are sparkling in the light of the spotlights. Watches the way the skin in the corners of his eyes crinkles when the smile grows, as if he can't believe how anyone could ever be this lucky, can't believe how the person being in this position really is him.

He watches the way his bushy eyebrows furrows in concentration to hit each note perfectly. The way the veins in his neck gets clearly visible when he sings his heart out in each little note that leaves his beautiful lips. The way he puts down his whole soul in each one of them, to hit them all off with brilliance. The way his strong hands grip firmly around the mic in his hands. Something that causes his whole arm to flex, showing off the strong muscles.

Zayn imagines the way those strong arms would feel wrapped around him, not in a friendly way, but the possessive way of a lover. How they would feel tightly surrounding him, until his mind, all Zayn's thoughts, was consumed by the burning light that seem to shine from every core of him.

Zayn wonders if he with those arms, could pin him to the floor, hovering above him, keeping him in place with his lips roughly pressed against Zayn's own, if they could securely hold him against a wall, with nowhere for him to escape...

Zayn's longing after him.

Zayn watches him as he shuts his eyes closed, to allow that feeling to sink in. The feeling of the thousands of screaming fans, singing their lyrics, the same lyrics they'd worked so hard with, back to them. That mind-blowing feeling as they see the tears in the fans eyes and the connection with them through the music.

Zayn watches how he puts down all he has in making everything perfect. From the way, his notes mend beautifully with the music behind, to the way his energetic feet dance across the stage. How he tries to do it all with grace. It's how he is, wants to make everything as perfect as he possibly can. He puts down his whole self to do everything with precision.

Zayn's longing after him, longing after Liam.

Zayn's learned this by now, learned how to hit each note with grace, and still watch Liam's every step across the stage. He's learned to no longer get distracted by Liam's presence when he's about to hit one of his more difficult notes. The way he always got in the beginning, when his voice cracked when the only thing Liam did was to lay his eyes upon him. When the only thing required, was one of Liam's huge smiles, for him to lose his balance and make his voice combust into nothing at all.

Sure, it still is very hard sometimes. Like now, when Liam chooses to lay a sweaty arm around his shoulders. When he pulls him in close against his chest, and Zayn can't help it. Can't help the way he so willingly melts into Liam's warm touch, nor the way suddenly, the whole of his balance is held up by Liam. He cannot help the way he so fully trusts the slightly younger boy. And he definitely can't help that silly, happy smile which appears, and is spreading all over his face.

Neither can Zayn help how his next part, the one he shares with Liam, refuses to escape right from his throat. Instead, it comes out weak and almost cracked, nothing like he's practiced in the studio too many times for him to remember, or usually sings on stage. Nor can he help the way he shots small glances at Liam. Who has closed his eyes again, hitting each note perfectly, making up for Zayn's sudden loss of voice, a voice that refuses to leave his lips right.

When the part's over, Liam smiles a wide, eye crinkling smile at him, and carefully releases his grip around Zayn's shoulders. Zayn quickly tries to regain his balance again, all the while trying not to let that amused smile slip onto his lips. Although he must admit that he fails, and that badly.

Liam takes a step back, with a lingering touch on Zayn's tense back. Although he won't admit it, it's a touch which causes shivers to emerge from the depths of Zayn's spine. A small touch, and then he's gone again. Runs across the stage with glee in his steps and starts to sing towards the crowd on the other side.

And Zayn's back to watching him again. He's back to watch the way Liam's eyes crinkles in a beautiful laugh when Niall leans in and whispers something apparently amusing in his ear.

His eyes follow the way Liam does some silly dance moves on the stage. An amusement in the depths of his chest at the way Liam smiles all so brightly when the fans' screams give him response for the effort.

Zayn watches as Liam picks up a bottle of water from the edge of the stage. Watches the way he thirstily pours its containment into his dry mouth. But Zayn can't help the thoughts that consume him, that only mere minutes ago, it was his own lips that were wrapped around that same bottle. The bottle, which Zayn himself drank from, just as thirstily as Liam now is only moments before.

He can't help but wonder if the taste from his own mouth still somehow linger around the opening of the bottle, if Liam still in some way can sense his fingerprints from when they were wrapped around it, if Liam still somehow can feel the warmth his fingers left behind.

Neither can he help the way his thoughts jump to the feeling of those lips, that's still wrapped around the bottle, wrapped around his cock instead-... But no, he's not going there, not a good idea to get a boner on stage now, is it. But the thought won't quite leave him alone. He curses under his breath, rubs across his forehead with his hand, in a weak attempt to get rid of the thoughts consuming him.

(And if he must adjust himself a bit in his pants… Well, it's not like anyone's ever is going to know.)

(He can't help it.)

He's only forced to look away when Harry carefully nudges his shoulder, gives him a glance, like an 'you okay?' and Zayn nods encouragingly towards him, smiling a bit. All that he wants is Harry to turn his attention away from him, so he can continue his watching of Liam from afar again. Zayn needs this, needs to watch Liam's every move, every step across the stage, just like he needs the air in his lungs or the blood pumping in his veins.

Zayn needs Liam.

Harry leaves him with a warm lingering touch on his back and an understanding gleam in his eyes. And Zayn thankfully turns his gaze against Liam again, watches the way he listens to something Niall whispers in his ear, smiling widely and barking out an eye crinkling laugh in the end. Zayn can't help the way he wishes that it was him Liam was laughing because of. And when Liam whispers something back in Niall's ear, he can't help but wish that it was him that Liam leaned towards like that, that it would have been his ear that Liam almost had his lips pressed against.

(But Zayn doesn't mention his wishes out loud, because they are just that, wishes, that sometimes comes true, and sometimes not.)

Instead, he waits until Liam's brown warm eyes meets his own, and then puts down his whole soul and heart in hitting each note in his next solo perfectly. He sings his whole heart out in the mic, eyes not leaving Liam's for a second, drags the last notes out, stretches them, and changes the tune in his voice so he can vary them as he pleases. He holds the last one until his lounges aches, and with his voice on the verge of breaking, before he carefully shuts his mouth around them. Not breaking eye contact with Liam once, singing the line directly to him.

Liam's face is lit up in a breath-taking smile, as he’s gushing happily towards him. And Zayn knows then that Liam sees it just as the friendly gesture it usually is, something they all do every now and then to bring a smile on the other’s lips. A small smile creeps its way onto Zayn's face when Liam brings his mic to his lips and shouts a "Bring it up for Zayn!" and the crowd loudly cheers.

Liam never needs to know how dearly Zayn meant that serenade he dedicated Liam. He never needs to know how dearly Zayn wishes that he would see the love, the affection shining through each note, and not the friendly gesture he took it for.

(Zayn wishes, but his wishes have a tendency of never coming true.)

As if to answer the gesture, Liam sings his next line directly towards Zayn, with a cheeky smile on his lips, and eyes glimmering. And as always, Liam puts down his whole self into the notes, sings his heart out, hits every note perfectly. Singing each one of them directly to Zayn.

Zayn feels it as if his heart stops in his chest for a beat, as if shrinking in convulsions as the chock sudden act overtakes him. And then, it starts to hammer like the wings of a butterfly instead, beating too fast in his chest for him to cope. His breath gets caught in his throat and he desperately tries to breathe enough air down his lungs to keep himself standing.

Small whimpers escape his mouth and he starts to feel lightheaded, his vision becomes blurred in the edges and he desperately grips Harry's upper arm tightly, uses the other boy's balance to keep himself standing. Zayn concentrates on his breaths until he starts to feel a little bit better. A bit less like he's about to fall, before he slowly allows his eyes to meet Liam's warm ones once again. Liam who’s all bright smiles towards him, a smile that reaches his eyes and lits his whole face with an inner gleam.

Liam doesn't release him with his gaze, even when his solo's over. Instead, he keeps Zayn caught with his eyes. His eyes a prison Zayn gladly would’ve been caught in any day, a prison where he would've stayed in forever, if only Liam would let him. Liam's eyes that lit his heart with fire with one small glance.

And Zayn doesn't mind, not at all.

The magic is broken when Liam turns his eyes away, leaves Zayn with an awfully empty feeling clawing on the inside of his chest. Leaves him with that hollowness of something missing, erupting in his stomach, and an empty space in his heart longing to be filled. His eyes are still blown wide, and his breath escapes his mouth in small whimpers, and a thought in the back of his head tells him that he probably looks as pathetic as a fish out of the water, totally out of his element.

Because it hadn’t meant a thing for the other boy. He saw it as a joke, a fun gesture shared between two mates. Just something which all friends do. Although Zayn must correct himself, because no, not friends, that's too simple, what they have is so much deeper. Best friends maybe, but even that sound weak in Zayn's ears.

But the thing is, Zayn would gladly accept hundreds, no thousands of these moments together with Liam, even though that for each time, he can feel his heart break a little more. Chose them before anything else, even though that he, for each time, loses a bit more of himself. He would gladly accept them, because as long he gets to be together with Liam, to meet his warm, smiling eyes, he’s perfectly content.

By habit his eyes search out Liam's figure once again, he takes in the broad shoulders, the body who has yet to quite grow into its features. He takes in the not maybe jet mature face where a bit baby fat still lingers, even though he's nearly to be called a man by now. Watching fondly the brown hair as it lightly curls around his face. Watches the soft cheeks who doesn't seem to be able to produce any stubble yet, how hard he ever tries. Takes in the soft plump lips spread into a wide grin, and the brown glistening eyes, crinkled by the force of the glowing happiness that his face shows.

Zayn watches Liam, and he's never seen anything more beautiful.

 

||>~<||

Even though you'll hit some things along the way down,

The fall will nevertheless continue downwards

||>~<||

 

“You ready for this?” Louis is smiling widely at him with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes, a water gun securely held in his hands.

“I was born ready.” Zayn replies, a wicked grin on his lips. a laugh in his voice. He’s holding a similarly looking water gun to Louis’ in his grip. Finger ready by the trigger.

They’re both hunched behind some kind of temporary wall backstage. Its rough surface digging into their backs. It’s right after sound check and they have a bit of time off before they’re due to some small interview. Everyone else is spread out all over really, but a few laughing voices can be heard from the opposite side of the wall in the lounge area.

“one… two… three…” Zayn whispers

Before suddenly

“ATTACK!!”

It's Louis who shouts. Loudly and on top of his lunges.

And then they’re both sprinting up from their hiding place. Shooting cascades of cold water at everyone within their reach.

Zayn hits a stunned looking Paul in the face, before he rolls like a skilled ninja, (maybe a proper ninja roll wouldn’t have hurt this much, but it’s not like he’ll tell anyone) and drenches Niall in water from behind. Something which causes the blonde to turn around. Niall's shocked face slowly turning into a vengeful one when he spots Zayn with the loaded water gun in his hand.

“It's on ye’ counts!” He shouts at them both. A concealed laughter in his voice, which he tries to sound threatening.

Zayn makes a run for it and sprints over to Louis. Now standing back to back with the other boy, shooting water at everyone within reach.

“Fuck, fuck… Not good, not good at all…” Louis mutters to himself. Zayn throws a glance over his shoulder only to grin when he sees Louis pouting at the water gun in his hand, completely emptied out of water.

But as Zayn turns around once more, he spots something which has the grin to fall off his face.

“Louis! Watch out!”

He shouts as a determined looking Niall with a large bucket of water in his grip makes his way towards them.

“Run for god’s sake Zayn, run!”

And they do.

The two of them sprints down a corridor, grins on their faces like five year olds. They're bumping into each other and walls, laughing as they run. With Niall and probably some more drenched people with buckets of water, hot on their tracks.

Zayn spots a small golf cart, and sets off towards it, shouting to Louis to hurry up. He gets behind the wheel and starts up the engine, just as Louis swings himself in beside him.

“Drive, drive, drive!”

And Zayn does.

“Louis, fill yours with that water bottle!” Zayn shouts and nods towards a bottle of water in the drink holder.

“You're a genius mate!” Louis exclaims with a happy grin as he starts loading his own water gun.

Zayn drives while Louis’s shooting water at those chasing them behind. Letting out whoops of triumph each time as he hits someone. Zayn's steering through corridors and rooms backstage, and it feels like they're in a movie. Like a wild car chase down the streets of a large enlightened city.

(And Zayn’s laughing the whole time.)

(This is probably not what the golf cart is supposed to be used for. But it sure is one of the more fun ways to use it.)

“No, no, no.”

Zayn mutters as the golf cart is slowing down to a halt. His feet hammering the gas pedal but to no use. The car has gone completely dead.

“Whose bloody job is it to keep these fueled? They’re sure as hell doing a shitty job at it, let me tell ya.” Louis complains loudly and aims an irritated kick at one of the golf cart’s wheels.

They both freeze into statues of ice as loud thumping footsteps can be heard further down the corridor. A splash of fear in their guts as they turn to look at each other in unison.

“Hide.” Zayn whispers. Before pressing himself against a wall that shields him from the corridor they just came from. Water gun at the ready in his hands. His heart beating hard in his chest, a wide grin on his face.

Louis has hidden himself underneath the dead golf cart. A hiding place which, apparently, wasn't that effective. As only a few moments after Niall, Paul and Harry have reached them, there’s the distinct sound of Louis’ loud oaths, as he's dragged out from underneath the dead car.

There's then the distinct sound of water splashing, as three buckets of water are emptied over him. Zayn peeks forward from his hiding place and can't help but double over laughing, clutching at his stomach at the sight of the spluttering and drenched Louis before him. Tears of laughter spilling from his eyes. Not caring about staying hidden anymore.

Louis eyes turns to him and narrows. “You- you betrayus little shit!”

But that does nothing but to increase the laughter in Zayn’s chest.

He doesn't notice someone lurking in the shadows behind him. Not until a whole bucket of cold water is emptied above his head anyway. He's gasping as the cold water sends a shock through him. Spluttering as he gasps for air. And now it's Louis’ turn to bend over laughing.

Zayn turns around on the spot, completely drenched and his wet hair hanging limp before his eyes. His eyes spot a familiar back running away from him and his eyes narrow.

“Oh, it's so on!” He shouts, sprinting after the person, whose gigglish laughter is spilling like rays of sunshine through the corridor.

They're sprinting in a chase all over the backstage area, laughing and shouting threats at each other as they run.

Zayn soon is out of breath, and he swears to himself that he will stop with those bloody cigarettes, fully aware that he probably won't anyway. But he pushes himself until he’s able to grab Liam’s back. Their chase turning into a wrestle, filled with laughter, that no one of them is willing to lose.

In the end, none of them wins really. It kind of ends with them both lying in exhausted heaps on the floor, panting heavily, close to each other.

Grins covering both of their faces.

 

||>~<||

And as you fall,  
You'll find yourself to enjoy it more and more

Catch yourself longing,  
To explore what it’s like further down

||>~<||

 

They're a couple of shows into the U.S. leg of the tour, all of them backstage after another concert. Another show where they sang their hearts out in the mics to another set of fans screaming their names. Drained out, after another night of pure adrenalin consuming their bodies.

They're all dealing with the constant buzz of pure energy from being on stage differently. That buzz that leaves them longing to mess around, burn the overpowering energy that threatens to consume their bodies.

But at the same time, leaves them exhausted, on the brink of sleep, where the only thing that matters is a warm bed to curl up in, preferably they all together in a comfortably curled up lump of bodies. Cuddling and sleeping until they're once again forced upon their feet by their full schedules.

Louis is like a fire bolt, filled with sparkling energy. His legs are a jiggling mess, and he seems capable to run up from the couch at a second’s notice. Restless, with eyes never focusing on one point long enough to actually see it, as he watches everything and nothing at all. His voice is a constant mess of jokes, laughs, and silly things that happened during the concert. Makes fun of everything and everyone, including himself. It's as if a flaming light surrounds him, a burning bright aura, in blazing reds and flashing streaks of yellows, and he is present with his every being, every nerve in his body throbbing with energy.

On the same couch, there's also Harry. With his dreamy, not-really-at-all present, smile, and if Louis is a fire bolt, then Harry is his absolute opposite, like the soft waves of ocean, dependent and constant. He's comfortably leaning against the back of the soft couch, pressed to Louis side. His large hand lying comforting on the elder's leg, as if to keep him grounded, and with his hand, gluing him to earth. Harry is all sly smiles, and his gaze shifts between being fixed at nothing at all and to amusedly watch the fire bolt that is Louis, with a dreamy expression covering his face.

Every once in a while, a loud booming laugh can be heard from the other side of the room. Where Niall is sitting up-flown on a table, a beer in hand and near access to the mini fridge. Talking loudly with Josh and some of the crew members. A conversation apparently filled with lots of large gestures with both hands and body. Their jokes can be heard where the rest of them sit by the couches, and whenever Niall's laugh reaches their ears, all their lips raise a bit in amused smiles. It's a sound that sweeps through the room like bright colours of gold and yellow.

Zayn himself is seated in the couch across from where Harry and Louis are. Comfortably leaning his back against Liam's chest, Liam's warmth seeping through the thin material of his shirt, warming every part of his back.

Small chills emerge through his spine whenever Liam's warm breath touches the bare skin of his neck. One of Liam's arms is slung around his shoulders, securely holding Zayn in place. Every breath he inhales through his nostrils has the distinct smell of Liam, a smell he knows way better than his own.

Absent fingers combs through his raven black hair, plays with the blonde streak that flashes in the ever black. Causing him to relax, to be drawn under in that all too familiar way. A way that Zayn’s both longing for, and so petrified of getting used to.

His before so perfectly styled quiff soon falls limp across his forehead, when Liam's fingers threads through it, wears out all the numerous products Lou uses to style it before every show. Makes it hang like a wilted flower, giving him a more childish look than he rather prefers.

Zayn's eyes fall shut in appreciation when dull nails softly scratch against his scalp. His every muscle relaxes, and he allows himself to enjoy the moment, enjoy the warmth that surrounds him, and the feeling of safety that seeps into him by Liam's warming arm around him. He allows himself to enjoy Liam's calm heartbeat pounding against his back, the scent of Liam everywhere around him, until his every being doesn't contain anything else than a constant repeating of 'LiamLiamLiam'.

An embarrassingly low moan works its way up his throat and escapes his lips when Liam's dull nails finds an especially sensitive spot a little behind his left ear. He nuzzles his head against Liam's palm, silently begging for more, something he momentary gets later, along with an amused chuckle right by his ear.

"Have I finally found a weak spot of yours, Malik?"

Liam's low voice causes a shiver to erupt in Zayn's spine when the hot breath reaches his ear, voice filled with amusement.

Yes, you find one every single day, and each and every one of them contains you.

Is what he most of all would like to say, but instead, his teeth dig down hard on his bottom lip, restraining the words from slipping past his mouth, leaves them caught deep in his throat.

"Since when did you become such a kitten Zaynie? Harry, I'm going to switch you for this one, he seems much cosier."

(It isn't until then, reminded by Louis' voice piercing through the air, Zayn remembers that there's others in the room, easily able to see him, even though Zayn doesn't see them through his closed eyes. For a moment, he feels a rush of embarrassment seep through his body, painting his tanned cheeks in a darker colour by the thought of having others to watch his feelings laying on display like this.)

(But that's only momentary.)

His worries soothe out when Liam scratches that same spot, causing him to nuzzle himself against the hand again, unable to restrain himself.

It's Harry's, a bit late reaction, to no one's surprise really, that once again brings him back to reality.

"But Louis!"

With Louis' name in a heavy whine on his tongue. Zayn's smile widens a bit when Liam’s and his own chuckles join.

Zayns eyes are open now, watching with a smile Harry and Louis wrestling on the other couch. It’s a wrestle filled with chuckles and giggles, as if they were children playing in the playground, rather than two nearly grown up men in a world-famous band.

The wrestle ebbs out in nothingness when they stare lovingly deep into each other's eyes. The sounds of them making out then fills the room (accompanied with groans of “Get a room you two, will you?”).

Zayn rolls his eyes at the sight of the two of them all consumed by the other. (Both figuratively and literarily.)

(which is something Zayn's seen enough times to be a little bit disgusted with at this point. But it nevertheless causes a smile to spread across his face).

Zayn again feels Liam's fingers across his scalp, and he faintly smiles, shifts a bit so he's leaned more comfortable against Liam's chest.

"Nah, Lou. Stick to your own, yeah? This one's mine."

Zayn's breath gets caught in his throat by Liam's calm declaration, and Zayn’s every being melts into Liam, when the other boy’s grip tightens around him. Zayn's mind is suddenly a chaos of thoughts, heart racing in his chest. Liam had just called Zayn his, declared it as if it was common knowledge.

(Yes, yes please Li, I'm yours, always yours. Let me be yours.)

A small chuckle escapes Louis' lips and his voice is light, and Zayn imagines him sitting back with his arm calmly rested around Harry's shoulders, probably in a resembling pose of how Liam and Zayn are intertwined with each other.

"Possessive much, are we Payne?"

"Maybe"

And fuck it if Zayn's eyes don’t shoot wide open at that because it's not fair. It's not fair of Liam to say things like that, when Zayn knows that he doesn't mean them the way he wants them to.

He carefully avoids meeting anyone's eyes, needing a moment to once again put up the carefully built walls concealing him. But it's harder than it should be.

Maybe

That one word, etches, slowly and painfully, without his own will, into the very inner part of Zayn's being, where he allows no one to approach. But Liam still kind of sneaked his way into there too. Is hurting along with other promises, mumbled into his ear in the middle of the night, along with fingers slick from lube and a mouth of sin.

Liam's fingers caress Zayn's hair as if nothing's happened, and well, nothing hasn’t really.

Though there's a frenzy of his heart thumping in his chest. A tension in his body that weren't there before.

New walls being built to conceal the fallen ones.

 

||>~<||

And when you think you've reached the bottom,

When you're convinced that this's finally the end,

There's always a few feet left to fall

||>~<||

 

They're still by the couches, still recovering from the post-concert high.

The other’s voices melt into dull murmurs, a soft noise in the background, nothing worth him paying attention to. Every now and then, Liam's voice pierces its way through the lulling sound, a throbbing red or glowing yellow in the ever-grey mass.

His eyes are half lidded now, watching everything in the room. But he's too deep down in this lulling cocoon that Liam's arms around him creates, to participate that much in the conversation.

Instead, he's perfectly content to watch and listen to the others when they talk about the concert, the fans, and everything else their throbbing bodies now process.

It's far too good to be true, and of course, like it always is in this world,

it is.

A loud signal suddenly pierces through the air, with its source deep in Liam's jeans pocket. Causing Zayn to nearly jump in surprise, and then curse under his breath. It's a signal that that they all know too well and Zayn feels it like his whole body turns into ice.

Of course, she must call right now, when Liam's arm is wrapped around him, caressing his hair, holding him close, and everything seemed so perfect.

Somewhere in the room, a loud wolf whistle can be heard, together with an

"Girlfriend alert, aye, Payne?''

There's this moment when Zayn turns to watch Liam, and Liam's gaze is piercing itself into his own, their eyes locked for what feels like an eternity. Liam makes a vague gesture towards the phone. “I got to…” Before he takes a deep breath and impatiently untangles himself from Zayn. He gets up and presses the phone to his ear with a disgustingly sincere:

"Hey baby!" to Danielle, that Zayn so well knows is on the other end. Liam rushes away without a glance backwards. Zayn's hazel eyes glued to the quickly vanishing boy, with the sunny smile across pink lips, and the phone pressed to his ear, clutched in a tight grip.

Zayn watches him disappear with a cold and empty feeling in his gut. It wasn't as if he had forgotten about her existence or anything, but why did she have to call when he felt more at peace than he had in a long time. When he could pretend, if only for a moment, that his hopes weren't for nothing.

Zayn’s arms are tightly clutched around his legs, curling himself into a ball. His nails painfully digging into the tan skin of his arms, until angry red marks are showing. He can't get rid of the feeling of being scoffed away, rejected. The cold feeling spreads through his body, his eyes narrowing, bitterness causing a sour taste on his tongue.

He feels it as if he is unable to get enough air down his lungs. His breaths are too short and shallow, his heart pounds roughly in his chest, is pulsating in his ears. It drowns out every other sound the room might provide.

Because in the end this is what it always would come down to, wouldn't it? Him or Danielle, and apparently, there wasn't much of a question about that one.

He doesn't notice that he’s shaking, until familiar arms wrap themselves around him.

He willingly allows himself to be swallowed by them, in a desperate need of comfort from anyone really. Someone that can understand him, can tell him that it's okay to be in love your bandmate, to love your best friend. Someone to tell him he's completely normal, which he can't convince himself by his own, because he seriously doubts himself on that one.

"Zayn." Harry's voice is low and warm, and then he just holds him. Holds him in a tight embrace until his trembling body relaxes, goes limp in Harry's arms. The sharp shattered pieces that are himself, melting like ice on a hot summer day, until it's just a pool on the ground, a dull throbbing pain in his chest instead of the before so sharp, painful edges.

"He's got you fallen pretty hard, yeah?" Harry's soft voice quietly murmurs in his ear.

And Zayn quietly wonders how much Harry already has realised on his own. How many of his secrets that he’s figured out just by one after another, puzzling the pieces together.

(And Zayn finds himself thinking that he doesn’t want to know really.)

He thought all his walls were going strong but apparently, the cracks are beginning to show. “Is it that obvious?” Zayn asks in a low voice, not that thrilled for Harry's answer.

Harry hugs him closer. “That depends how close you're willing to watch. But to your question, yeah, in some ways.” The words escape Harry's mouth in a soft murmur.

Zayn looks down on his hands, sighing to himself.

"'M shit at this." He says with an attempt to a small, embarrassed laugh, but it emerges his lips more like a sob than anything else.

"Nah, no one can blame you really, if it was me, I would've drowned long ago." Harry's voice is soft and he threads a comforting hand through Zayn's already fucked out hair.

I already have.

But instead of letting the words slip past his lips, he keeps them locked up in his clenched throat, imprisoned by a closely shut mouth.

 

|>~<||

Drowning, well yeah,

That’s almost a better word to describe this,

||>~<||

 

And when Liam finally returns it's with gleeful words about Danielle joining them in Las Vegas in a week. It Causes Zayn’s eyes to harden. His walls to grow taller and thicker around himself. A taste of acid in his mouth, venom on his tongue.

But he saves his breath, keeps his mouth held tightly shut.

 

||>~<||

The drowning is painful.

An ache in your chest, like the feeling of holding the smoke of a cigarette down for too long,

But really, it’s beautiful too

||>~<||

 

They're sat on the roof of the hotel that has come to be their home for the night. Overlooking the large city that no one of them cared enough to remember the name of. The last beams of sunlight from the setting sun hitting them low from the east.

They're pressed against each other, hip to hip, knee to knee. Harry's head is resting on his shoulder, his absent fingers drawing patterns on Zayn's hand as it rests on his thigh. There's a bottle of something that Zayn’s not quite sure of what, within close reach, sipped enough times by them both to create a pleasant buzz in their systems.

A cigarette is dangling between Zayn's fingers, occasionally brought to his lips to inhale a deep drag of smoke down his lounges, only to then be released again. His eyes sluggishly watch as the sun sets over the city with its busy residents.

“Why won't you just talk to him?”

Harry's voice is slow and thoughtful. Like he's been pondering the question in his head for a while. Zayn glances down at him, sighing because he knows too well who Harry is talking about.

“Because he's happy with her, and I don't want to ruin things for him.” Zayn sighs deeply, all the sudden tired and worn. He brings his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly.

There's a crease between Harry's eyebrows, a thoughtful look on his face.

“He's happier with you though.”

And really, Zayn doesn't know how to answer that. Because that's not true, is it? If Liam was happier with him, then he wouldn’t have left him in the first place, would he? Wouldn’t have abandoned what they already had.

Wouldn’t have left him with that false start.

Harry sighs deeply, stretches out his legs in a more comfortable position. He grabs the bottle, taking a short swig. He offers it to Zayn who gratefully accepts, taking a large gulp himself, feeling the relief of the alcohol spreading through his system.

Harry then slowly continues.

“I just want you happy you know. Why can't you just give it a shot? Try to seek your own happiness for once.” Harry's words are unnaturally soft and quiet, barely audible.

Zayn sighs, absently taking a hit of the cigarette resting between his long fingers. A knot in his throat. A numbness in his chest. A prickling behind his eyelids that he tries to ignore.

“I've already said it. I don't want to ruin anything for him, nor anything between us. Thus, I don't want this. I-... I don't want to be falling for him. I don't need the shit this-... ”

Zayn stops himself. Drags a deep breath of smoke down his lounges, the words stuck in his throat. He clenches his jaw tightly shut, the nails of the hand resting on Harry's thigh, digging half-moon shapes into his own palm.

Harry sighs deeply, his hand closing around Zayn’s, causing it to slowly relax.

Zayn takes out the cigarette by angrily rubbing it against the concrete of the roof. His eyes closing, hand hugging Harry’s back tightly.

“Even if- against all the odds- he would somehow love me back; the problems wouldn't end there. I mean. Look at you and Louis, look at what you've had to live through. I don't think- I don't think I could handle that.”

He opens his eyes, turns to look down at Harry.

Harry’s quiet for a long time. His eyes staring into the distance, before meeting Zayn’s own.

“Don't you think it's worth it though. In the end?”

And really, Zayn doesn't have an answer for that.

 

||>~<||

You're drowning, drawn under the cold surface of water,

For each day sinking a bit more

||>~<||

 

The soft sound of a guitar being plucked. The five of them in a large heap of bodies. Spitting shit lyrics that are as likely to be completely cut, as being their next lead single.

They're at the back of the bus, a set of couches turned into a large bed. And Zayn finds himself loving this. Loving how everyone quietly hums along to the strings of the guitar, how they'll all fill in with words or just a melody once somebody else’s voice fades.

A humming from Niall along with a few words about love in summer. A new set of chords plucked of the guitar to company.

“Cause you were mine, for the summer” Niall sings softly. As he does, a melody is taking its form in the others.

“Now I know it's nearly over.” Louis soft voice fills in where Niall's drop.

“Feels like snow, in the summer.” Harry joins in. Smirking as Zayn raises his eyebrows at him, from where his head is rested on Harry’s chest. “What? Snow in the summer’s the worst.”

“Like you've ever experienced it.” Louis adds in with a grin. Poking Harry's stomach with a toe.

“Hey.” Harry pouts at him.

Liam’s soft voice then tries out the words Harry just sang. “Make it September and it'll go with remember.” He says with a small smile. And Harry pokes his tongue out at Zayn and Louis.

“Hah, told you it worked.”

Liam hums for a bit more before singing. “Feels like snow, in September, but I always will remember”

Zayn then opens his mouth, trying out the lyrics that's pounding on his tongue.  
“You were my, summer love.” Letting the notes carry his voice as he sings.

Liam then joins in and together they sing “You always will be my, summer love.” Their voices harmonising together. Varying the notes.

Zayn’s eyes meet Liam’s, a dumb grin covering both their faces. And Zayn feels like he could drown in those soft warm brown eyes, crinkled with a smile. A warmth spreading in his chest. And Zayn finds himself trapped in the depths of those warm eyes. Feeling it like his gut is making backflips within him.

“Hey guys, I think we just might be onto something.” Niall says excitedly.

And they all just kind of stupidly grin towards each other.

 

||>~<||

Falling, drowning, whatever the word,

There'll always be moments when you think you're in control,

When you think that you've regained your balance

||>~<||

 

Another night. Another show, another buzz of energy, another drop. Just the usual. But at the same time, it’s kind of not.

Zayn can’t sleep, the bed's way too cold, missing something - or more precisely someone - and his body keeps twisting and shifting beneath the stiff hotel sheets, unable to find a comfortable sleeping position.

His hazel eyes stare up at the blank ceiling of the impersonal hotel room that he and Liam shares, without really seeing it. All while his mind is a constant mess of thoughts running in every direction, but everyone with the same referring point. Liam.

Liam, who’s lying comfortably in his own bed, only a few feet away. Who’s probably occupied in the depths of sleep, surrounded by a beautiful dream. Without knowing about Zayn's agonies. And for some reason he can’t let go of the thought of how Liam is only a few feet away from him being able to touch the younger boy. How he is only a few feet away from being able to feel Liam's warm body against his own.

Liam...

Thoughts presses down on him with the weight of earth, a feeling he's not sure he can name is forming in the depths of his chest, suffocating him with all its emotion.

It is impossibly close to fear, but at the same time not. He's afraid, filled with dread of what will come the following day, and how he himself will react. How he will stand meeting the one who's holding Liam's heart in the palm of her hand.

Tomorrow.

Vegas.

But at the same time, there's a splash of happiness piercing through him along with every thought of Liam that passes, just because the simple fact that it's Liam, mixed with more feelings than Zayn's sure he's ever felt at once.

Memories are flashing through his mind, Liam smiling while thinking of Danielle, his happy voice whenever he talks about her, which happens a lot, or the two of them kissing. Something that had haunted Zayn for days afterwards.

The heels of his palms press themselves against the closed lids of his eyes, as if that'd help to erase the thoughts that's consuming him. The burning sensation of held back tears behind his eyelids won't seem to fade, so he presses his hands even harder against them, to somehow force the tears back into his skull.

And then there’s other memories too, of a simpler time.

A time before she got in the picture.

Memories of how he and Liam would curl up together in each other’s bunks, when the loss of their families became too large to bear, or when the world around them just got too huge.

How those moments slowly turned into furtively touches, and later into desperate kisses. Seeking a relief for their puckering needs. As time passed, it all kind of turned into a game to get the other off. Seeking the comfort of each other and the reassurance of another warm body.

There never was love, at least not in the beginning. It was two boys seeking relief for their loneliness and needs. But Zayn might admit, that it for him slowly started to mean something more. It started to be less about the need to reach that orgasm high, and more about the affectionate smile Liam would give him afterwards.

So, when Liam got into their shared hotel room one day, spluttering with words of happiness about how he’d met someone, something broke within Zayn. The foundation of the wall he’d come to call his home, was laid.

He has no idea how long he just lies there, staring with empty eyes up into the ceiling, before he clumsily gets out of bed. It isn't as if just lying there will help him approach that precious state of sleep he so desperately longs for anyway.

His bare feet pad across the wooden floor, picking up the package of cigarettes along with the lightener from a pocket of his jeans, which are laying thrown in a heap on the floor, along the way.

He plays with the lightener for a bit, watching the yellow flame with amused eyes. The lightener with the engraved 'Z', a gift from Liam for his last birthday. Zayn remembers Liam's smiling explanation, as if it had been yesterday. That if he'd be giving Zayn anything, it'd be something that he'd use, not some junk that was about to be thrown away. As if Zayn, would've thrown away something Liam had given him anyway. He had kind of never gone anywhere without it since.

Not that he'd admit that to Liam though.

He makes his way across the cold wooden floor, towards the window that's facing the enlightened streets of San Diego. Opening it wide with a deep sigh of relief when he feels the cold night breeze hitting his face, clearing his thoughts.

A familiar ache in the tips of his fingers suddenly asserts itself, craving his attention, and he enlightens a cigarette with experienced fingers, before inhaling the smoke with a mental sigh of relief, feeling how the nicotine seeps into his system. There's something calming about the well-known routine, an anchor to hold on to when everything else is floating in a confused mess around him.

He slowly allows the smoke to escape his lips, forming clouds of smoke that slowly rises towards the dark night sky. The tune loud in his ears, heart thumping out the rhythm to accompany.

Take these brain cells out my head  
Fill my lungs, drain my heart  
'Cause this smoke cloud's giving me shelter

His elbows are resting on the windowsill and his gaze is fixed upon the enlightened streets down below him. Every now and then he closes his eyes and takes a deep drag, shaping his lips to an 'o', before watching with fascination as the smoke slowly rises towards the stars and moon above. The small prickles of cold, gleaming light, quietly watching him from their throne, high above him in the dark sky.

He deeply inhales, feeling how his lungs almost painfully aches for air, but a pain filled with pleasure, a pain he longs for. He then keeps the smoke trapped down his throat, until his eyes start to tear up, and he's forced to exhale once again. Leaving him with that lightheaded feeling, as if all the cells in his brain slumbers for a moment, drains his head out of thoughts. He feels how the nicotine seeps through his system, systematically doing its work.

And if he's being truly honest to himself, he craves it, loves it.

"It's beautiful yeah?" a soft, familiar voice from behind has him to almost jump in surprise.

It isn't meant as a question really, but he slowly nods anyway, gone in his own thoughts, but still so painfully aware of Liam's presence right there behind him. Can feel the heat the other boy through the thin material of the t-shirt he's wearing. Can hear his slow, regular breathing right by his ear.

Zayn puts the cigarette out by slowly rubbing it against the ashtray standing on the windowsill, before dropping it in the little bowl.

He takes a deep breath and enlightens another one, is just about to bring it to his lips, when he gets caught off guard by Liam's arms sneaking their way around his chest from behind.

He leans back into the embrace, and just like any other time, he can't help how he completely melts into Liam's touch. Neither can he help but love how perfectly their bodies fit together, their height almost the same, and bodies fitting like pieces from the same puzzle.

With a small shake of his head he gathers himself a bit, and again takes a hit of the newly lit cigarette.

Then they're two watching the by street lamps enlighten city, two who quietly watch the small clouds of smoke that rise towards the stars above.

Two, instead of one,

at least for now.

 

||>~<||

The control only to soon be shattered again,

And the way downwards continues

||>~<||

 

But nothing last forever, and soon enough, Zayn finishes the second cigarette, burned down to the filter, and puts that one too out against the ashtray.

After that, he just stands there, doesn't have it in him to light another one. Instead, he just buries himself in Liam's warmth that surrounds him. He leans his head against Liam's shoulder, with his gaze fixed upon the moon and stars above.

He can feel how Liam's hands slowly rub small circles across parts of his skin that they're able to reach, before releasing him from his grip. But before Zayn can open his mouth in protest, Liam's gently nudging his shoulder, as if asking him to turn around, and so he does.

Liam's warm eyes meet Zayn's own hazel ones, and there's a comforting hand on his lower back, keeping their bodies close. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that every single one of his emotions plays across his face unconcealed. That his walls are not strongly enough built.

But he isn't really able to bring himself to care.

Liam's gaze lingers on his face for a bit more, before embracing him in a tight, comforting hug.

Zayn sighs and relaxes in Liam's grip, nuzzling his head into the crook of Liam's neck. He closes his eyes, and enjoys the safety that always seeps into him by being this close to the other boy. Enjoying the warmth that spreads through his whole body whenever Liam touches him. Enjoying how well they just fit together, like two pieces out of the same puzzle, and how no words are needed.

Zayn quietly wonders how a small thing like the constant thumping of Liam's heartbeat against his own chest, can make him relax the way he does. Or how Liam is one of the only ones who can really comfort and calm him down.

"Homesick?" Liam's voice is quiet and soft against his ear, and Zayn only nods. His mind telling him that he can't tell Liam about the actual reason, not without losing the other boy.

Liam nods too, slow and thoughtful, before leading them both against his own bed. "C'mon, up for a cuddle, yeah?" Liam says along with a wink. Pink lips spreading in a breath-takingly beautiful smile.

Zayn can only nod because yeah, he'd need that right now. His body slumping a bit against Liam's, grateful for that arm wrapped around him, keeping that shared touch between the two of them.

They both nuzzle together on the bed, the duvet surrounding the two with warmth. Zayn quickly falls asleep after that. With Liam's arms wrapped around him, slow constant breaths against his ear are the only thing breaking the silence.

Safe, yes with Liam he's safe.

 

||>~<||

You never thought you'd fall this quickly,  
Oh no,

But let me tell you,  
You did.

||>~<||

 

Warmth

Warmth that's surrounding him, that keeps him held down, just below that surface of consciousness. Seeping into him like the soft waves of tide, making him go all pliant under its soft pressure.

Liam

Liam's warmth all around him, his smell surrounding him, clouding his mind with his every inhale, seeps through his veins and makes him go all dizzy. Just like that time when he and Louis sat for hours in their shared hotel room, huffed cigarette after cigarette, with clouds of smoke filling the small room. Leaving the two of them completely fucked out afterwards, both drained out of every emotion, the result they both longed to achieve.

Liam

It isn't until then he realises where he is. Curled up in a warm bed, with Liam's strong arms embracing him, holding him tight against his chest.

They're tightly pressed together and Zayn can feel Liam's chest expand with every breath that passes through his lunges, can feel the soothing, rhythmical beats of his heart right against Zayn's back.

They're a mess of tangled limbs, legs knotted together, with occasionally brushing bare feet. As if they both, in their sleep, had the determination to touch the other as much as possible.

Warm hands absently thread through his hair and across his ribcage, sending pleasant chills through the whole of his whole body. Regular breaths are dampening the skin of his neck, and Zayn can't help the way he presses himself backwards against Liam's warm mouth. Can't help the way his neck arches, so that Liam's soft lips slowly moves across his skin.

He lies there, wrapped up in Liam's arms, with his eyes closed, and an absent smile playing on his face.

He feels as dumbstruck as he probably looks. With that dazed smile ghosting across his lips, eyes shut, and all swallowed up by Liam's embrace.

(And he swears that if Danny had seen him right now, he would've laughed loudly, asked when the fuck Zayn had allowed himself to ever be this vulnerable.)

(But Zayn also knows that he too would have ruffled a hand through Zayn's hair, in affection. Knows that the words would've passed his lips along with a wink and bundled up together with something disgustingly cheesy. Something that would've caused Zayn to aim a punch at his shoulder, but with a grin playing across his lips. Secretly agreeing with Danny's words, even though he'd never admit it out loud.)

He freezes for a moment, when he feels rather than hears a soft moan against the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Feels the warm flow of air escape from Liam's mouth against his skin, and the muffled vibrations in the depth of the younger boy's chest. For a wonderful moment, he can feel Liam's arms hug him tighter against his chest, before he can hear Liam's raspy voice against the shell of his ear.

"Good morning."

Zayn quietly wonders how two such simple words, used millions upon millions of times, could sound that beautiful escaping from those lips.

Apparently deciding that Zayn probably is still asleep, Liam's fingers then continue to thread through his hair. It's with a small smile that Zayn then lets himself be pulled under once more. Because no, there’s no need to tell Liam that he's awake quite yet.

One of Liam's arms is resting underneath Zayn's head, with his fingers tangled in the messy strands of black hair. All while the other traces Zayn's upper body with dull nails. Fingers which are now slowly tracing their way down his arm, drawing the outlines of the ink, permanently etched into his skin. Traces them until they reach his hand, outlining the swallow inked there, before slowly returning back up again. Causing shivers to erupt in Zayn's spine, and small goose bumps to appear on his skin.

There's a slight shift of Liam's head, raising it above Zayn's, as if he is examining his handy work, soon followed by a quiet hum, apparently satisfied with the result.

Zayn can't help the way a small whimper escapes his lips, when Liam's fingers ghost across his jawline. Soft fingertips trace its shape, with Liam's head still raised to watch his every reaction. Nor can he help the way his body betrays him by fluttering his eyelashes, or the way a soft moan erupts deep in his throat when a soft fingertip traces the shape of his lips.

"C'mon Zee, I know that you're awake, open those eyes now, sleepyhead."

The words are quietly murmured into the shell of his ear, barely more than an exhale. It's followed by a small giglish laugh, and the warm puff of air sends shivers through the whole of Zayn's body. Smooth fingertips then trace the rest of his face, ghosts across his cheekbones, strokes the thick line of his eyebrows and explores the shape of his nose and forehead. All the while, Liam quietly hums a soft tune Zayn's sure he's never heard before.

(He doesn't want anything more badly than to freeze the time right here and now, and stay like this forever. But a voice in the back of his mind, sounding an awfully lot like his older sister Doniya, tells him that it isn't an option. That life doesn't work that way.)

Zayn drags a deep breath down his lungs and then mumbles something resembling to a "mmpf" before slowly opening his eyes. His eyelashes flutter rapidly against his cheeks, as he's greeted by the yellowish sunlight shining through the windows. The sunlight is painting patterns of yellows across the white sheets, reflects and creates a spectrum of new colours in the white painted walls. His eyes then shut almost immediately after they've opened, shocked by the sudden light and in an attempt to protect themselves from it.

The bed shifts as he can feel a movement of Liam's body against his own, and when he once again opens his eyes, they're met with Liam's own warm ones. The light from the window hits them, and causes Liam's eyes to glimmer and his eye colour to shift to a new spectrum of lighter brown, that suits him just as well as his usual darker one.

"Good morning." Liam says once again, together with a growing smile that lights his whole face, causing Zayn's next breath to get stuck in his throat.

Because, that smile is really meant for him. There's no one else in the room that could've caused it. It's because of Zayn that Liam's smile glows, just as bright as the sunlight that shines through the window.

“Morning, you” Zayn replies with a voice rough and grumbled from sleep, a smile playing across his lips.

A shiver of something he quite can't name, runs down his spine when he realises how close their faces are, how close Liam's lips are from touching his own. Liam is hovering above him, with both his arms on either side of Zayn's head, carrying most of his weight, as if he's afraid of crushing Zayn if he allows himself to relax and just lay on top of him. - Not that Zayn would mind the slightest -

Zayn's eyes shift between Liam's beautifully brown ones, and his pinkish plump lips. His teeth trap his bottom lip in an unaware gesture, along with a small uncertain smile playing across his own lips.

A part of him wants to run, because it’s just like those nights for what feels like ages ago. It's the same tension hanging thick in the air.

The nights before her.

(And Zayn don’t want to think about it. No, not now. It all hurts too much.)

But Zayn can’t stop his thoughts to go back to a morning similar to this in some ways, but different in others. To the very first time he realised how completely screwed he was.

_~ They were both messing around, wrestling each other between fits of giggles, in a foreign hotel bed, the white sheets uncomfortably stiff beneath their touch, washed too many times and used way too few._

_The covers were a tangled mess around their brushing feet, with comics spread all over the hotel floor and end of the bed, completely forgotten for the moment. But only a little while ago, the two of them had lain with their heads closely pressed together, reading through old comic after comic. Until they'd started an argument, filled with giggles, if Liam would suit the most as Batman or Captain America._

_Zayn had eventually ended up on top, straddling Liam's hips, a wide grin of achievement covering his lips - an unmistakable 'I won' in the gleam in his eyes. They were both panting heavily, with a matching set of large smiles covering their faces, both staring into the other's glittering eyes._

_Their laughter soon soothed out, left the small room with only their heavy pants breaking the silence. Zayn's own eyes were locked by Liam's, captured by the soft smiling eyes gazing up towards him, a gentle smile playing on the reddened cheeks._

_"You're still Batman to me."_

_The words slipped through his lips in a murmur, sounding much more intimate than he'd first meant them to. By a sudden idea, there’s a smirk covering his face. His next words daring, his face closing the distance to Liam’s._

_“Come on then, come on.” he urged, as if compelling Liam into a dare. Before pressing his lips to Liam’s. A surprised hum escaping his lips at the relief that followed._

_It wasn't much of a kiss really, not at first at least. It was hesitant slick lips, pressed together. But as they both grew more confident, the kiss deepened, until they were chasing the taste of the other’s mouth with their tongues._

_It wasn’t smooth and perfect like every description of how a kiss is supposed to be. No, instead it was a mess of clinking teeth and noses bumping into each other._

_(Yet it was absolutely perfect_.)

_But he still couldn’t deny the cold splash of fear that coursed through him, because this wasn't what he'd wanted, was it? The thoughts of 'no, not him, I can't do this, I don't want this' had rushed through him, left him pathetically numb all the while Liam's mere presence made him go weak of the love he didn't want there._

_As their lips parted, they just stared into each other's eyes, both taken aback by what just happened. They didn't speak about it. Yet, as they continued to read through their shared collection of comics, they were lying if possible even closer pressed together than before. And Zayn felt it like something new had grown between them, that hadn't been there before._

_(And Zayn couldn't deny the way shivers spread through him when Liam murmured the words_

_"Only if you'll be my Robin"_

_into the nape of his neck, between fits of laughter about something hilarious their favourite superhero just did.) ~_

A small smile forms upon his lips when Liam nudges his nose with his own, as if to make him come back to reality. There's a small giggle escaping the other boy's lips, a sound that has Zayn's own lips to twitch into a fond smile, in awe of how adorable it is.

(Even though Zayn doesn't use words like that. But, maybe he does, not that he'd ever admit it out loud, or use it combined with anyone else than Liam.)

“Penny for your thoughts?” Liam murmurs, a smile still upon his lips.

Zayn shakes his head no, showing off a small smile, their eyes once again getting caught in the other's. And Zayn’s breath gets stuck in his throat, because if he just would rise his head only a few inches, his lips would meet with Liam's.

Zayn imagines himself lifting his head, just a bit, so that their lips could meet in that kiss he'd so long missed. He imagines himself clasping a hand around the nape of Liam's neck, holding him in place, how it would feel to have those soft locks underneath the tips of his fingers. Imagines the way the weight of Liam’s body would press his down into the mattress. How Liam’s soft lips would feel roughly pressed against his own.

But no, Zayn tears his eyes away from Liam's own, trying desperately to calm the raging beat of his heart. His eyes close for a beat, recollecting himself, before he slips out from underneath Liam. As Liam sends him a confused look, Zayn picks up the packet of smokes, holds them up for Liam to see, before sneaking out onto the balcony.

Zayn seats himself on a bench, his fingers shaking so badly that it takes him a full minute to light the fag. He then takes a deep inhale of smoke, feeling it settle the trembling of his bones. But he can't quite forget the closeness of Liam's lips, nor the feeling of Liam's weight pressing him down into the mattress.

As he's huffing himself through his third fag (he swears that he's not getting addicted) he can hear a voice behind him.

“You alright?”

Without waiting for his answer, Liam seats himself beside Zayn on the wooden bench. Zayn’s heartrate picks up as he can feel the warmth of Liam’s side pressed against his own. Something which he’s quite unable to name spreads like a weight through his bones, has him longing to lean his head upon Liam’s shoulder. To snuggle himself into the warmth of Liam’s embrace.

Instead of answering Zayn just shrugs, not trusting his own voice to hold. He concentrates instead on the cigarette between his fingers, smoking it down to the filter. The nicotine a welcome calmness in his blood. When there's nothing left to smoke, he drops it to the ground, taking his time to make sure it's all put out.

“You know, if I did something wrong before, I really am sorry.”

Zayn glances up at Liam, and there's something so suffocatingly genuine in his face, that it has him wanting to claw at the strange feeling in his gut. It all hurts because Liam cares so fucking much but not in the way Zayn wants him to.

“Nah, it was nothing,” Zayn can hear his own voice say, “just really needed a smoke.”

“You sure you're alright?” And Zayn swears this concern of Liam's is going to suffocate him one day.

“Yeah absolutely.” Zayn’s voice continues, sending a little assuring smile Liam's way.

“Good, you up for heading back to bed? It's freezing out here.” Liam says with a pointed shudder. Clasping his arms tight to his chest, hugging himself with an apologetic smile.

Zayn huffs out a small chuckle of laughter, accompanied with a small roll of his eyes “yeah alright.”

They head back to bed together, and somewhere, there’s this relief pouring through Zayn, at the thought that nothing worse happened. They didn't cross that invisible line between friendship and something more. That he had been able to restrain himself in time.

But in the back of his mind, there's a voice telling him that they've already crossed that line a long time ago.

 

||>~<||

In pure self-preservation,  
You’ll sooner or later start to build your walls

But, how tall can walls be built,  
Before they come crashing down on the builder?

||>~<||

 

Later, while they lie there, still pretty close to each other, in a mumbling conversation, there's a knock on the door, shattering the peaceful moment. It's quick and rapid, making both of them stir, slowly turning their heads towards the door in perfect sync.

If Zayn's being honest to himself, he's quite sure that he'd never want to leave this warm bed. Even though the stiff sheets and uncomfortable pillows, which are nothing like his own at home or in the tour bus. But along with Liam's presence beside him, like a glowing sun, making up for all the flaws this moment might provide. There's a beat when they're just looking at the other, none of them seemingly willing to get up and make the effort to get the door.

With a heavy sigh, Liam heaves himself up from the bed, and Zayn watches how the muscles in his back strains with the smooth movement.

He won't admit how he rolls onto his stomach, just to watch the way Liam's bulky but at the same time lean figure, - how that's even possible - moves across the floor. How he's all sleepily slow movements, suppressing a yawn as he walks towards the door.

He's only dressed in a pair of tight fitting black boxer briefs, and Zayn smirks into the palm of his hand at the way his own eyes search their way down the curve of Liam's arse. He bites down on a groan, teeth sinking into the skin covering his knuckles, at some point annoyed with himself, because why can't he just be normal for once? But the most part of him doesn't really care, is instead perfectly content as long as he still gets to watch Liam.

His eyes trail over Liam's back as the other boy pushes open the door, speaking quickly with someone outside, low enough that there's only a soft murmur of mixed voices reaching Zayn's ears. Instead of trying to pick up the words, Zayn amuses himself by instead trying to memorize how the yellowish morning light causes the bare skin of Liam's back to glow, casting shadows where the muscles point out, making them seem more defined than they usually are.

The conversation by the door only lasts for a few moments, before Liam lets the door swing shut and then turns back against Zayn again.

"We're supposed to be outside by the bus in five, so we better hurry."

The words escape Liam's mouth in a rushed mess, words tumbling over each other in the haste. He's already wriggling into a plaid buttoned up shirt, missing a few of the buttonholes as he tries to do them as quickly as possible.

Zayn blinks a few times, watching the way small peeks of Liam's skin shows through where Liam has missed a couple of buttons, before the words really hit him.

Five minutes, shit.

He stumbles out of the bed, almost tripping over in the rush. He'd have fallen head first, if it wasn't for the too familiar hand gripping his shoulder, holding him steady for a beat before he’s able to regain his own balance.

Zayn turns and Fuck. Liam's right there. Watching Zayn with those big brown eyes, full of concern, and it's too much, Zayn can't handle it. Can't handle the knot building in his throat because he's so fucking pathetic, even his own body betraying him with the sudden leap of his heart, thumping against his ribcage.

Liam's "You okay?" doesn't improve anything at all, because it's so sincere and honest, with eyes containing nothing but warmth. Zayn's so embarrassed, is the thing. Embarrassed by needing Liam the way he does and he doesn't really have a way to handle it.

So instead of looking Liam in the eyes like a normal person would, he just adverts his eyes, shoulders slumping a bit before mumbling a "Yeah 'm fine." before turning towards his night bag, to hide the embarrassment upon his cheeks. Moving away from Liam’s soft touch that he craves with an intensity that scares him.

It is as if he can feel Liam's gaze burning on his turned back, as he picks out some clothes at random. He pulls off the shirt he'd been sleeping in, before he gets into the clothes. Which happens to be a loose-fitting pair of washed out denim jeans and a black t-shirt, along with a mismatched pair of socks, that could belong to either Harry or Niall, or both really.

Technically, the shirt could belong to any of the other guys, but he can tell that it's Liam's, without even a second thought. Knows it by the scent of Liam that seems to cling to the material.

And if Liam does notice, he doesn't mention it. Something that Zayn's kind of grateful for.

(Zayn suspects too that Liam must be used to getting his clothes nicked after the two years they've known each other.)

He’s somewhere annoyed with himself that he doesn't seem to own any clothes of his own. But he knows that it's way too comfortable to just nick some clothing from one of the others when he runs out, especially Liam, for some reason, for him to stop doing it.

There's a mirror hanging on the wall by the drawer, and Zayn studies his appearance in the glass, his eyes widening and he groans when they land upon his hair.

"Fuck" He mumbles between clenched teeth, his mouth turning into a straight line, as if he just tasted something bitter.

His hair is a complete and utter mess, standing in every direction possible really, caused by the rests of the products from the day before, and Liam's fingers threading their way through it. The blonde streak, usually so neatly styled, is hanging in a limp curl across his forehead, and the rest of the hair looks more like a bird nest than anything else.

He sighs heavily pushing his hair out off his eyes, before desperately trying to tame it by dragging his fingers through it, gritting his teeth when it barely does any difference.

"Here, take this."

He can feel a soft material being pressed into his hands, and he grabs it on instinct. His gaze falls upon the grey fabric, and he recognises it as one of Liam's beanies. His fingers absently trace the soft material, as he pushes down the urge to bring it to his nose and inhale the scent of Liam, that he's sure is attached to it. Instead he lifts his gaze and sends a smile of ‘thanks’ towards Liam, before covering his mess of a hair underneath the beanie. He watches his reflection again, adjusts the beanie for a bit, before he deems his appearance decent enough to show himself publicly.

"Ready to go?"

Liam asks along with a smiling gesture towards the door. Zayn only nods, without being able to take his eyes away from Liam's beautifully warm ones. The magic is broker though, when Liam turns his gaze away, looking determinedly at his shoelaces, as if tying them needs his fully concentration.

Zayn stands there, hand fallen for a couple of seconds, before gradually picking himself up again. He picks up his boots and pulls them on in one sweeping gesture before swinging his night bag over one shoulder.

They both head out of the room, making their way to the main lobby, where they can see the security standing, looking quite annoyed as it seems.

When the two reaches them, Paddy immediately starts giving them - as it seems - endless instructions; 'no interactions with the fans or what so ever, walk straight out to the bus without stopping'-... but Zayn doesn't listen really, it's the same as usual, and he's heard it dozens of times before.

Someone from the security picks up their bags, and then hurries outside first, to load them onto the bus. After that, the two of them gets a nod from Paul, who's standing right by the entrance, as a sign that they can follow the security guard out, so they do.

The fans' screams pick up with a multiplied force from before, now when they've spotted the two of them. But they don’t have the time to sign anything, and the fact withstands that they aren't allowed. So instead, they keep close to each other and wave towards the fans with smiles covering their faces.

The distance between the hotel door and the bus waiting for them isn't that far really, so quite soon they're jumping onto the bus, grateful for the way the bus dulls the sounds of the screaming outside.

The others are seated by one of the tables, their voices loudly discussing something that Zayn can't get a grip on really. From what they can hear though, they're sounding as if they are making a bet or something like that. Especially according to Niall's 'Okay, okay, I'm in, twenty pounds if nothing's happened 'til the end of tour' and Louis' 'Get ready to lose Horan! We all know something's gonna-' But their voices immediately die down when they spot the two of them. Just like a radio that's abruptly turned off.

Zayn curiously raises one of his eyebrows at Harry when he sits down beside him, but he only gets a quick knowing smirk in return.

"What's going on?" Liam asks, who's slung himself down across from Zayn, with the table as a solid, separating wall between the two of them. It's kind of dumb really, having a table there, Zayn might as well ask to get it removed, but just might.

"What took you guys so long?" Louis abruptly asks instead, blankly ignoring Liam's asked question. And Zayn can't quite shake off the feeling that Louis is only changing the subject.

There's a rise in Liam's eyebrows, his eyes darting between the three now sitting in complete silence, apparently about as confused as Zayn himself is over the whole situation.

"Just slept over a bit, didn't really listen last night what time we were supposed to be out here. And as it seems, Zayn didn't either."

Liam's voice is relaxed, and the words comes along with a careless shrug, and he smiles a bit towards Zayn, who can't help that small flip in the pit of his stomach.

Louis' eyes meet Zayn's own, and he only smiles sheepishly at Louis' lifted eyebrow. Doesn't really have anything to add to Liam's words. His smile turns into a grin as Louis mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear "Every time with you Malik I swear, how does one lad manage actually succeed to be late to everything?"

"It's a gift." Zayn says dryly, along with a badly covered snort.

Across the table, Liam covers a laugh into the nape of Niall's neck, and Zayn sends a glare towards him. But the whole appearance of it all is kind of destroyed with that rise in the left corner of his mouth.

"You were as late as I, Payne, remember that."

The words could've had a more serious or even slightly irritated tone in them, really. But his voice is more stained of that held back laughter that he's sustaining on the tip of his tongue, threatening to break free when his gleeful eyes meet Liam's own, tongue showing in a childish gesture.

“Hey, don't turn this around on me, Malik.”

“Well as you see, Payne, I kind of am.”

“That doesn't even make sense? How could…-”

“Will ye’ two shut it?!” Niall interrupts their playful bickering with a loud voice.

There’s then this silence surrounding them, a thickness in the air. All of them staring at each other, the last spoken words hanging echoing in the air.

Niall's the first to crack up, and all of them kind of follow after that.

Zayn snorts, but the by laugh reddened face of Liam, whose glistening eyes meets his own, has even him to join the cacophony of laughter.

Niall and Liam actually end up in a tangled mess of limbs, play wrestling on the floor, and everything goes just downwards from there really.

Because in the end; they're all just five idiots.

 

||>~<||

There's always a risk  
Building walls

Will they stand strong  
Or will they fall?

||>~<||

 

All of them is a bit more than restless when they finally, after five hours in the pretty small bus, reach their destination, Las Vegas.

When the bus at last rolls up to the entrance to the hotel, none of them is late to jump out of it. Even though they haven't quite decided if they're going to sleep in the bus or at the hotel, they're all craving for a change of environment and a hint of fresh air.

They walk together past the hordes of fans standing by the entrance, stopping briefly to sign some photos and talk to them for a bit, before they continue through the glassed doors leading into the lobby.

What they're greeted by has them all to react in different ways.

Liam's expression brightens, and throws himself the person standing there, his arms embracing her tightly. Louis smiles a forced acknowledging smile towards her, before gazing worriedly towards Zayn. Niall only shrugs with a nod towards her, keeping what feeling he may feel hidden, before grabbing a hold onto Louis’ arm, pulling him along towards the restaurant for a snack. Harry freezes and his hand almost desperately hugs around Zayn's own.

And Zayn himself... He freezes in the midst of a step, stiffens as if he just got a punch straight in his face. His eyes are blown wide open, staring at the person who's held in a secure and loving grip by Liam's arms. Those same arms that Zayn himself had wrapped around himself, just a couple of hours ago. Arms that's now tightly embracing Danielle instead.

Danielle's here

Fuck

The realization hits him with the force of a thousand bricks. Danielle, who Zayn had actually succeeded to forget, erased out of his memory after the night and morning he'd spent with Liam. He feels like throwing up at the thought of how pathetic he's been lately. Now when the hope, he didn't realize until now that he had, abruptly is torn away from him.

And it hurts, is the thing. It hurts to see Liam that happy with someone that isn't him, even though he should've gotten over that fact a long time ago. The thing is though, that that he still quite hasn't.

He can feel Harry tugging at his hand, tries to pull him away from the scene, to somehow spare Zayn from this pain piercing through every part of his body. But even if he'd wanted to follow Harry, he still wouldn't had been able to, he's frozen mid step.

He actually sees it himself, how pathetic he must look for an outsider, but he can't do a damn thing about it. His eyes are locked at the scene playing out in front of him.

The scene where Liam now has Danielle locked up in an embrace, and their lips connected in a passionate kiss.

Zayn swears that he'll puke if he must hear those noises they make. A pile of bile rising in his throat by the thought of what will happen when they finally are done down here and runs for their hotel room.

Zayn turns around, closes his eyes. He just can't watch it anymore. It feels as if someone just ripped his heart out, tore it in pieces, threw the pieces in the dirt, only to then put it back into his chest again. Leaving him to try to repair what's left. Hoping that the cracks won't be too visible.

 

||>~<||

And a broken heart, either

Isn't a thing that happens all at once

||>~<||

 

Zayn's hands are pressed flat against his ears, in an attempt to keep the sounds out. But really, he can’t. They fucking had to give him the room right next to theirs. Because that's just how much faith hates him.

Zayn had gone to his room for a quick nap, only to be woken to the worst possible scenario.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Not when Liam’s all too familiar low moans are mixing with her high-pitched ones, together with the dove thumps of a bed hitting a wall. The pain in the depths of his chest unbearable, like acid in his lounges, a knife digging in his heart.

There’s a cold emptiness inside him, eating him whole until he isn’t sure what to do with himself. Until his teeth are clattering, body shaking in feverish trembles. There's a sick feeling in his gut, as if he’s mere seconds from puking.

The thing is, Zayn don’t need this. Don’t need to be reminded of the two of them fucking.

And Zayn definitely don’t need to be reminded of how Liam sounds when he’s close to climaxing. He doesn't need to be reminded of the way he looks when he shuts his eyes in pleasure, the reds that creep down his tense neck.

Doesn't need to be reminded that it's her doing that Liam's overwhelmed by pleasure.

It has a pressure to build beneath his tongue, forehead bathing in sweat. Has him to crawl into a ball, trying to somehow keep himself in one piece. A primitive urge in his brain to escape. To flee from this consuming pain.

But it’s when they together, loudly reach their orgasm high, that something breaks within Zayn. Something that was built with warm glances, bright smiles and small touches. It all crashes down on him and all he can see is red. A feeling of pure anger, that he's sure he hasn’t felt consuming him in years, boils in his blood. A taste of metal on his tongue. His pulse loud in his ears.

There's a loud thumping sound as his fist hits the wall, and then there’s pain.

He clenches his jaws around a groan, eyes scrunching together. His fist pulses and he can feel it swell by the minute.

His eyes flutter open, only to see how the skin of his knuckles are torn, and a small dent in the wall where he hit it.

As the adrenaline leaves his system, the anger too seems to fade. It leaves him with a cold, hollow feeling in his chest. As if something vital just got ripped out.

And he's cold. So cold.

Freezing.

Empty.

His back slides against the wall as his legs gives out, eyelids heavy, the emptiness eating him whole. He presses the injured hand against his chest.

Telling himself that it’ll all be alright soon enough.

 

||>~<||

It's a gathering of small moments,

Small happenings,

Which all build up against the breaking point

||>~<||

 

“Come on Zayn, wake up. Sound Check is in half an hour.”

He’s startled when there’s suddenly an annoyed voice on the other side of the door, followed by a sharp knock.

Zayn pushes off the ground with a sigh, biting down on a groan as the movement sends a shock of pain through his hand. He gets the door, greeting Louis with a cold look on his face.

Zayn notices vaguely how Louis takes in his appearance, eyes flicking between his cold, worn face, the hand hanging limp by his side, and the slight dent in the wall behind him. The expression in Louis’ eyes turning, from narrowed with annoyance, to be filled with worry and concern instead.

And somehow, that’s worse.

“Zee.”

It's simple, but the soft way he says it causes a feeling to stir in Zayn’s chest, a feeling that he doesn't want there. It causes something to prickle behind his eyelids and a lump to form in his throat.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, but Zayn shrugs it off.

“It’s nothing.” He says, eyes narrowing slightly. Setting his jaw in a sharp line.

“But, wha-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” his voice stern, the coldness in his chest his chest making it empty of emotion.

His walls definitely up.

He can feel Louis eying him cautiously, as if he's trying to read him. A frown covering his face.

“All right. But we’re having Paul to take a look at your hand before we head off to the venue.”

 

||>~<||

They’ll all build up,

Until it finally comes to a point

Where you can't take it anymore.

||>~<||

 

Zayn watches as the small puffs of smoke sails towards the setting sun. The cigarette that rest between his fingers is almost burned down to the filter by now. The nicotine calming in his blood. The rough surface of the concrete wall he's leaning against digging into his back.

He's alone right outside the venue. Some hidden away spot where he'd been allowed to have a short smoke.

He had been in desperate need of one.

Zayn’s eyes fall on his bandaged hand. Something tugging at the corner of his mouth because it's all so pathetic really. The only thing Paul had been able to do about it was a quick bandaging, before they left for the venue. There hadn't been much more to do really.

It’s now dully pulsating, and Zayn kind of wishes that he'd punched something softer. A pillow would've been a better option, at least in the long run.

The coldness in his chest hasn't faded really. It's still there, clawing at his insides. Has him feel as if something's twisting in his gut. There's a sigh on his lips as he drops the cigarette and restlessly puts it out with his boot. The memories from earlier in the day, still haunting him.

There’s the clicking sound of a door opening, and then there’s the person Zayn least of all wanted to see, interrupting his quiet moment.

Liam.

“Hi, there you are I’ve-...” Liam’s voice fades off in the middle of the sentence, taking in the sight in front of him. Eyes trailing over Zayn's bandaged and slightly swollen hand, hanging limp by his side, only to then be met by the coldness of Zayn's glare.

“What happened?” Liam nods towards the hand, taking small hesitant steps closer towards Zayn. There's a concern in Liam’s voice, softness to his eyes. But this time, for once, Liam's voice does nothing but to increase the anger Zayn so desperately had tried to defeat. It instead has his lips to press together in a tight line, a taste of venom to build on his tongue.

“That's none of your business now, is it?” Zayn snaps, eyes glaring daggers into Liam's own, a cold sneer on his face.

The words are hard and rapid, quick precise punches. There's a satisfaction in his chest as he watches them land, watches Liam's gaze sink to the ground, his appearance shrink before Zayn’s glaring eyes. There's a part of him that hates himself for putting that hurt frown on Liam's face. But the satisfaction of hurting Liam the way Liam hurt him, is outweighing that better part.

But there's still something twisting in his gut, as he watches how Liam's face closes down before his eyes. How his emotions are wiped away. And Zayn quietly wonders if Liam has walls too, just that he hasn't noticed them before.

“Let me have a look at it at least” Liam says, his face showing off no emotion. But his tone insisting, a pleading hiding in his voice.

Zayn sets his jaw, a glare in his eyes.

“It’s already taken care of, so there's no need of you being here. Just leave me alone, will you?” His voice cold, arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

“But can't you tell me what's wrong? I want to help.”

Liam's voice is weak, the last words almost inaudible.

And Zayn grits his teeth at that because he doesn't need Liam’s help. Whatever Liam does won’t be enough to help him. Not when his heart feels as if his heart is being torn into pieces within his chest.

“I don't need your help.”

His voice cold, walls trying to hide the chaos inside him.

“Zayn, please…”

Liam's openly pleading now, a hurt look in his eyes. But Zayn wills himself not to see it. Doesn't want to see how much this is hurting Liam.

“For fucks sake Liam just go, yeah?”

There's a desperate tone in Zayn's voice by now. He needs Liam to go. He needs to be left alone with his thoughts. Needs to be alone to rebuild the walls protecting him.

“Zayn…”

“Don't you get it? Just leave me the fuck alone!”

Zayn's shouting the last words. Because why won't Liam just get it? His presence makes it all hurt a hundred times more. He can't handle this right now, the only thing he needs is to be left alone.

It hurts to watch Liam shrink before him. The pain in his eyes are suffocating Zayn. Has him wanting to claw at his chest to escape the hollowness inside it. He hates how Liam’s face is covered by hurt, and how that causes his own blood to run cold with guilt.

But the worst thing though, is when Liam hangs his head in defeat. When he turns around and walks away with slumped shoulders. The heavy door falling shut with a heavy thump behind him.

Zayn's legs give out beneath him, making his back slide against the rough concrete wall, until he’s tightly his hugging his legs.

And then, for the first time in what feels like ages,

Zayn cries.

 

||>~<||

Maybe the breaking part,  
isn’t what hurts the most

Maybe it’s the hollowness that,  
you feel afterwards

||>~<||

 

Zayn's not watching Liam. He is not watching the way he moves across the stage or interacts with the fans. Nor is Zayn watching the way Liam's shoulders are slumped, or the sadness and confusion in his eyes, as they seek their way towards Zayn. He is not watching Liam

He does not.

Zayn's eyes are staring straight ahead of him. An emptiness in his gut. A hollow feeling in his chest. Like something vital is missing. There’s still a fire burning in his blood, even though it has slightly faded. Because the thing is that he’s still pissed. He’s pissed at Liam for giving him hope, only to break his heart all over again.

But most of all, he’s pissed at himself.

He wouldn't really call what he’s up to for avoiding Liam, but perhaps that's exactly what he's doing. With every step Liam takes to close the distance between them, every try of nearing him, Zayn's already two steps away.

He knows that the others notice that something’s off. Knows it by the way they're whispering more than usual, how they keep sending worried looks in their direction. He sees it by the way Niall lays a comforting hand on Liam’s shoulder. He knows it by the way Harry is keeping closer than then necessary to Zayn himself, and by how Louis, by being his normal maniac self, tries to make both of them smile.

But he pretends as if he doesn't notice their efforts. Like this is just another show. Another appearance in the row of many.

But he still knows it’s just not.

Not when he can see her face in the crowd. Can see the way she proudly watches every step Liam takes across the stage. And something twists in Zayn's gut because that's his job. He's supposed to be the one watching Liam's every move. He’s the one who should admire every little part of the younger boy, from his by sweat gleaming forehead, to his energetic dancing feet.

Her presence does nothing but to make everything worse for Zayn. Nothing but increase the sickness he's feeling crawling in his gut. He rubs his eyes in annoyance, to somehow get rid of the prickling feeling behind his lids.

He’s angry, is the thing. Angry with himself for pushing Liam away, but what is he supposed to do? If he doesn’t keep his distance, there’s a great chance that he’ll break all over again.

They’ve come to the part where they all are supposed to pile up in a couch, and Zayn seats himself as far away from Liam as possible.

His eyes turn into narrow slits as the others seats themselves on either side of them, pushing them together in the middle of the couch. In the outskirts of his vision, he catches Louis smirking, and Zayn glares daggers at him. Because why don’t they realize that this is far away from a joke. That being this close to Liam nearly ruins the self-control he so carefully has constructed.

A part of Zayn wants nothing but to lean into Liam, to press their bodies together, feel the other boy’s warm skin against his own. But the other part of him wants to run, to increase the distance between them as far as possible. He’s left somewhere in between the two. Leaning as far away from Liam as the small couch allows, body stiff as a statue, eyes everywhere but at Liam.

But it’s when Liam dedicates the last part of more than this to Zayn, that he feels as if his breath gets struck in his throat. Because it’s not fair. Liam shouldn’t be allowed to do things like this to him. And the sincere way he sings the words, as if he meant every single one of them...

It leaves Zayn completely numb, beaten, a blank space where his heart should be.

“Cause I can’t love you more than this, love you more than this.”

 

||>~<||

And perhaps it’s that emptiness that  
Causes you to

Do things that you never  
Thought you ever would

||>~<||

 

Later they all go out for the night, hitting a random club in the heat of the city. Of course, Liam invited Danielle to tag along, not that it came as any surprise for anyone really. But it still manages to turn Zayn’s eyes into narrow slits, still has him to feel the annoyance fuel the boiling anger he’s been trying to suppress.

They’re all seated in a booth, a round of drinks in their hands. The atmosphere around the table heavy. And Zayn knows it’s partly his fault. Is aware of that, as his eyes are glaring into his drink, as if it had deeply offended him. But he pretends as if he doesn't notice.

As the night wears on, Zayn soon comes to realise, that the more he drinks, the more the pain and hollowness in his chest ceases. But at the same time, as his head gets dizzier, he finds it harder and harder not to watch Liam. To not take in his beautiful features. He catches himself straight out staring, and he curses for being so weak. For not being strong enough to keep his distance.

Then suddenly there's a new song playing on the pounding speakers, and it has Danielle’s face to be lit up by a smile. She takes a hold of Liam’s hand and drags him up on the dancefloor with a laugh.

“C’mon Li, this is our song”

Zayn feels something roar in his chest, because, of course they have a song. They must have hundreds of special moments together, just that Zayn hadn’t thought about it that way before. Hadn’t thought of them actually spending time together, sharing and creating memories.

As a distraction, he gulps down the rest of his drink and then rises from his seat.

“Next round’s on me.” He announces, before heading off towards the bar.

(And if Zayn gets more wasted than he probably should?... Well it isn’t as if it’s anyone's business really.)

Zayn knows that he’s drunk. Knows it by the way the other’s faces are swimming before his eyes. A laugh escapes his lips at how funny everything feel around him.

He turns his head and as his gaze focuses, the laugh dies on his lips. He stands up determinedly, swaying a bit on his feet, as the world twists before him, eyes fixed on something in the crowd of people. He thinks that he can hear Louis’ voice asking him something, but he isn’t sure about what. And as he sways through the sea of people, it has already slipped his mind.

Of course, it's Liam's face that he's found in the heat of the crowd. In his blurred vision, he can see him, as his front is tightly pressed against Danielle's back, dancing tightly pressed together. And suddenly, he's all Zayn can think of, everything else completely irrelevant. Liam's face the only thing he can see among the twisting blur of the crowd. An idea forms in the back of his head, that has Zayn staggering quickly through the people around him. He's a bit wobbly on his feet, but he still manages somehow to make his way.

Zayn then locks his eyes with Liam's own, the music pounding in the speakers matching the beat of his heart. He stares deeply into the depths of Liam’s brown eyes, as he grabs hold of a pretty girl nearby, and presses up against her. He carefully makes sure that Liam's gaze is upon him, as he presses his groin against her bum, dancing together with her similarly to how Liam dances with Danielle. Zayn makes a show of throwing his head back in pleasure, still grinding against the girl.

He can feel her rubbing against him too, and he smirks, his hands roaming over the curves of her body. As his gaze meets Liam's once again, Liam's eyes are filled with something intense that Zayn can't quite name, but that sends a chill down his spine. It has him wanting to claw at his chest, as it makes him at a loss of breath.

Zayn's gaze then bores straight into Liam's own, as he again makes a show of looking overwhelmed by pleasure, biting down on his lip, while fluttering his eyes shut. Fully aware from earlier experience, of the effect his little number will have on Liam.

He then makes sure that Liam's eyes are still upon him, before turning the girl around. There's the impression of a big fuzzy hair and a pretty face, before he locks his lips with hers. She's a good kisser, but she doesn't make him feel anything in particular. What do causes his cock to stir though, is the knowing of Liam's gaze upon him. It has him to feel a creep of thrill, to know that he's being intently watched in his every move.

And later, when she has Zayn pressed up against a wall, his cock down her throat, it's with the knowing of Liam still watching them.

Her mouth around him feels good, yes, yet he can't help but compare her to Liam. She moves much too fast for his liking. He finds instead his dizzy mind remembering the way Liam’s mouth used feel around him. How he would go almost painfully slow, teasing him, until he felt as if he were about to go crazy with desperation. How Liam would, with a strong grip on his hips, hold him down, until he controlled him completely.

He just had the presence of mind enough, to tug at the girl’s hair, to warn her, as he came with a cry.

Liam's name heavy on his lips, as his gaze met the other boy’s intense eyes amidst the thick of the crowd.

 

||>~<||

Although you somewhere know that

Those things won't take that hollow feeling away

||>~<||

 

As they get home from the club that night, Zayn, without a word, moves his stuff back onto the bus. He falls, rather than lays himself down in his bunk, waiting for that precious state of sleep to overtake him, feeling as if someone rapidly stabs his mind with a piercingly sharp dagger.

Just as he’s about to fall asleep though, he can hear rather than see Harry climbing into the bunk above him.

And they then went to sleep without any comment of it.

(But Zayn must admit that his sleep was a lot easier, than it would’ve been without his friend’s presence.)

 

||>~<||

They’ll perhaps even  
Make it all worse

As there's always a tomorrow  
Always a reckoning to be counted with

||>~<||

 

For three whole days, Zayn ignores Liam.

He doesn’t watch him.

He doesn't even speak with him.

Instead he goes to great lengths to avoid the other boy, deliberately plans his day so that they will only meet when it's absolutely unavoidable. And when they do, Zayn treats him with such a coldness that those meetings stay short.

Though he tries not to notice, there's been an increasing, almost desperate gleam in Liam's eyes during the last of those short encounters. But Zayn tells himself that it's for the best. That avoiding Liam is the only plausible solution.

(But when Niall corners him one day with accusing words and a determined set to his jaw, he doesn't have anything to put up to his defence.

Niall’s sharp “What the hell is your problem Zayn, Liam's devastated because of you. He doesn't understand what he could have done to make you hate him.” cuts right through his shell, pierces his heart like a sharp dagger. Because it goes against his every instinct, to hurt Liam, but he tells himself that it is all for the best.

And all he can do is walk away, to ignore Niall’s words just like he ignores the pain in Liam's eyes.)

The thing is that Zayn's hurt, more so than he can recall that he’s ever been before, and he don't know how to handle that. And neither does he know how to handle the shame that washes through him, as he remembers the way he acted in the club. And every time he looks into those big, brown eyes, it is as if he gets thrown back in time. He doesn't want to remember it, wishes that a merciful shadow could be drawn over his memories, but it is as if the memory has been inked into his mind with laser sharp needles.

He knows that his behaviour is affecting them all as a band, but more importantly as the best of friends. But he doesn't know how to otherwise handle it all. Doesn't know how to approach Liam, without his insides convulsing of hurt, although mostly, disgust with himself.

In the back of his mind, he also knows that he's the only one who can solve this mess, although he feels sick just by pondering the matter in his mind.

Right now, Zayn's comfortably seated in the bus, sketching out smudged lines of charcoal across a white sheet of paper. His feet in Harry's lap, who has a phone glued in his hand, frantically texting someone.

“Hey, Zayn?” Harry says thoughtfully slow, as he looks up from his phone.

“Yeah?” Zayn tears his eyes away from his work, only to look up to see Harry nervously nibbling at his lower lip.

“We were thinking, as this is the last night of this leg of the tour, that maybe we should have a guys’ night in, like good old times, yeah?”

Zayn doesn't even ponder the question, instead he utters a cold “No.”, a determined set to his brow. Before going back to his drawing, as if the matter was solved. He outlines a set of crinkled eyes, staring down on them, as something twists in the depths of his gut.

“Come on Zayn, we need to solve this. Don't you see how it's all tearing us apart?” The desperation in his friend’s voice has Zayn to once again look up. And his stomach turns into a tight knot, as he can see the pleading desperation in Harry's eyes.

Zayn groans as he buries his head in his hands. “What if I really don't want to?” annoyedly rubbing at the wetness behind his eyelids.

“Please? You and Liam are the best of friends, you always have. Hell, you're even closer than the two of us ever have been. What makes you think that you won't be able to it solve this time?”

Zayn stays as he is, hiding in the safety of his own arms. He knows that none of the others have any idea about what the problem is. And he won't tell them, that's for sure. But what if this really could be a solution? And what if it was and he didn't take the chance?

He takes a deep breath, calming himself, before his eyes once again met Harry's green ones.

“Alright” He simply says.

 

||>~<||

But the ways of a broken heart aren’t always that easy to follow

Impossible to control with facts or reason

||>~<||

 

As they walk into the suite where the others are gathered, Zayn lingers by the door. His eyes are roaming over the room, taking in the others, as they're stacked on a pile of mattresses and pillows on the floor, passing around a bottle of booze, a box of pizza on the floor beside them. He bites down on a grin because Harry wasn't elaborating, this really is just like old times. When they would sit up talking and drinking, while stuffing themselves full with shitty food, all through the night.

When Louis spots them by the door, his face is lit up by a smile and he exclaims

“Hey! Glad you guys made it!”

As Louis jumps up to make space for them, Zayn can't help but send a quick glance towards Liam. The look of hurt and confusion in those eyes, is enough for Zayn to want to run away and hide. Has him wanting to disappear right through the floor, as the guilt in his chest are too suffocating to contain.

Zayn tears his gaze away and seats himself among the pile of mattresses and pillows, deliberately as far away from Liam as possible. He grabs a slice of pizza and makes himself comfortable, head somewhere on Louis chest and toes playing with the dyed blonde in Niall’s hair

They don't approach the ‘LiamandZayn’ issue, but instead they talk about what feels like everything else. Sure, it is like old times, but the tension is thick in the air, although they try not to take notice of it. It's able to sense by the way Niall keeps a comforting arm hugged around Liam's shoulders, and how Zayn and Liam talk with everyone else except each other.

Although as the alcohol makes its job, the conversation turns more and more relaxed and the tension around them ceases.

“And I swear if Paul and Paddy prank me one more time it's straight out war!” Louis exclaims with exaggerated hand movements.

“Thought it already was somewhat of a war.” Zayn snorted while pinching Louis side with grease stained fingers.

“Hey!” He snaps and swats Zayn’s hand away. “And no, not yet, but I think I'll declare it soon. It doesn't count as war when they just attack me like this for no reason!”

Now it's Niall’s turn to snort out a small cackling laughter. “Wasn't it you who put post-it notes all over the windows of their car last week?”

“That, my dear friend, was a piece of art. Now hush.” And Zayn couldn't help but release a small sound of laughter, which were accompanied by three others.

And it all went well, the night wore on, and to describe it with a word, it was comfortable.

(And perhaps it was all thanks to the booze, as they all soon left the state of tipsy to emerge more into slurring words and a world spinning without them.)

It was when someone (read Louis) proposed a game of truth or dare that things were starting to go downwards though. After a round of kisses, stammering admissions and upside down standing shots, it was Louis turn to give Zayn a dare.

“I dare you to…” He hiccups once, before continuing. “I dare you to be alone in that room -” He points at the bedroom pointedly “with Liam for ten minutes.” A proud smile then makes its way upon his lips, as if he would now be worthy of the Nobel prize.

A sense of dread spreads in the pit of Zayn's gut, as his eyes meet with Liam’s above the others’ faces. There’s a bitter hardness around the shapes of Liam's mouth and eyes, which has a sickness to build in Zayn's throat, drops of sweat to form upon his brow.

“Let's just get this over with.” Liam murmurs lowly and pushes himself up on a bit unsteady feet.

Zayn feels the world turn around him as he too stands himself up. He dizzily staggers forward before regaining his balance, clipping slowly with his eyes. The blur of the others’ faces melting together. He blinks once more before his body turns towards the door.

They make their way into the bedroom, and just as the door shuts behind them, there's the clicking sound of a lock being turned. Then they can hear Louis’ slurry voice shouting through the keyhole.

“Just kidding, I won't open until the morning, good luck you two!”

And then there's the sound of stumbling feet and the definite sound of the outer door being slammed shut.

As Louis’ words sink in, Zayn slowly turns towards Liam. His instincts have him wanting to run as far away as possible, to hide from the unconceived anger and hurt in Liam's eyes.

(It has Zayn gulping down air and the words ‘please Liam, please understand’, heavy on his lips)

Zayn has as his intention to seat himself on the bed, his legs about to give out underneath him. But as he goes, he stumbles and falls, bringing Liam who's in the way, with him.

They hit the mattress with a low thump, and then they're close. So close. And Zayn can feel the pulsating heat of Liam's body against his own. It's hypnotising, to say the least. Being this close to Liam is like a drug flowing through his veins. His breath catches in his throat at the way they just fit. His reasons for avoiding Liam completely forgotten.

Liam's drunken gaze meets his own in a dark blur of the dulled browns of Liam's hair and eyes, mending with the whites of soft sheets. Everything floats together in a blur, but with the knowing of Liam being right there, impossibly close to him.

His eyes flutter close, and as their lips meet, and it's like someone has broken the barrages of a dam. Causing the water to break free of its former prison, in a strong current, overwhelming with its force. Kissing Liam feels so good, and it has him to release a moan in the other boy’s mouth.

They desperately tear at each other's clothes, and as their naked chests press tightly together, it sends a shock of relief through Zayn's bones. And it's so strong that he swears that he might pass out. He feels it is as if he’s been in a loss of air for a long time, only to now, with Liam's weight pressing him down into the mattress, can breathe properly.

As Zayn's blurred gaze seek out Liam's own, he somewhere registers how there's still an anger in those eyes, as they glare back into his. He watches as Liam's lips part in a growl, which has Zayn to feel a sense of dread form in his gut.

“You have…-” he stammers out while biting down sharply on Zayn's bottom lip. “Ignored me…-” Liam's lips continues down his neck, “for three whole days…-” he continues downwards, leaving a trail of bite-marks and licks down Zayn’s chest, “without any explanation…-” a hiss escapes Zayn’s lips as Liam bites down on his nipple “and you expect me…-” there’s a moan upon Zayn’s lips as Liam’s tongue trails downwards, mapping out the shape of the heart inked to his hip “not to be…-” there’s a sense of overwhelming pleasure as Liam’s tongue swirls the tip of his cock “pissed at you?”

And then there's nothing other than pure pleasure and relief, as Liam slowly, almost teasingly takes him in his mouth. He shuts his eyes as he almost desperately claws at the sheets. It’s even better than he remembers. And he tries to push himself further into Liam's mouth, but is stopped by a firm grip on his hips, holding him down. And fuck if that doesn't turn Zayn on even more.

He grits his teeth as a slick finger slowly pushes past his rim, slowly making its way inside him. The words “Please Li, please I’m sorry” falling off his lips jumbled together with a moan of pleasure. It feels good in a weird kind of way, and he groans as Liam’s finger bottoms out. Liam then picks up the pace, and Zayn doesn't quite know what to do with himself, whimpering, as he's torn between the pleasure of Liam's mouth and the finger inside him.

Before he knows it though, Liam withdraws both finger and mouth, and Zayn's left panting heavily, feeling awfully empty. But before he's able to utter a complaint, Liam flips him over onto his stomach, adding a second finger as he works him open. Growling “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it” against Zayn’s lower back. And Zayn bites down a groan as Liam’s fingers hit his prostate, making waves of pleasure go through him. Squeezing his eyes shut as this is more than his dizzy head is able to comprehend. He pushes himself back on Liam's fingers, a sobbing plea for more upon his lips.

But then Liam once more pulls out, and now Zayn straight out mewls, at the loss of Liam's fingers filling him up. He can feel a shit of the bed, as Liam hovers above him, parting his cheeks with a strong hand. And all Zayn can do is moan and push himself backwards, as Liam slowly pushes himself into him. Liam covers him like a blanket as he bottoms out, his fingers intertwined with Zayn's own. Soft lips kiss the tension away from Zayn's neck, as he covers his burning face in the pillows. Zayn groans loudly and claws at the sheets, at the sensation of Liam filling him up completely. They've done this before, but Zayn had forgotten this sensation of feeling this full.

Liam then carefully starts to move, and Zayn pushes himself backwards to meet up with Liam's slowly dragged out thrusts. Liam's lips are still on his neck, but Zayn turns his head, with a whimper searching for Liam's lips with his own. Which he soon finds and it's with a sigh of relief that their lips meet. He licks into the depths of Liam's warm mouth and he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. It's all so terribly intense, making his blood burn like iron and his pulse to thump loudly in his ears.

But it's when Liam repositions them, bringing Zayn onto his all fours, before he picks up the pace, that Zayn completely loses all sense of himself. He's all whimpers and moans as he hides his hot face away in his arms. Liam’s quick rapid thrusts making shocks of pleasure go up his spine and the new position has him feel full on a whole new level. And when Liam wraps a hand around his cock, stroking him, as he continues his vigorous pace, Zayn finally loses it. It’s with a cry of Liam's name upon his lips that he comes, spurting all over the mattress, his limbs going all limp underneath him.

Liam’s still holding him up, pounding frantically into him until he too hits that orgasm high, releasing his load deep within Zayn. He then, with a heavy sigh falls down upon Zayn's limp body, wrapping Zayn closely to his chest with tender arms. And then they just lay there, too exhausted to form any coherent thought.

Zayn hums in content as Liam absentmindedly paints out figures across his back. There's an heaviness to Zayn's eyelids as he nuzzles himself closer to Liam, enjoying the comforting way their naked bodies fit together.

An absent smile plays upon his lips as a warm feeling of something he can't quite name spreads through his bones.

 

||>~<||

You can't predict how it'll act,  
once the pieces are somewhat in place

Nor when or if  
It will fall apart once more

||>~<||

 

Later, Zayn shifts a bit so that he's able to watch Liam, and his eyes are met with the soft browns of Liam's own.

But as he stares into those eyes, it is as if someone just woke him from a deep slumber. Because the realisation comes crashing down upon him with the force of a thousand bricks. A sensation of dread spreads like a sickness in the pit of his gut. His instincts all telling him one thing, to flee. Because what the fuck had he just done?

His pulse loud in his ears as he pushes Liam away with all his might. There's this sick feeling pushing underneath his tongue, and drops of sweat forms upon his brow. He stumbles towards the bathroom, clicking the lock shut behind him, before he throws himself down onto his knees before the toilet. His fingers are shaking as they clasp tightly around the edges, as he hulks into the depths of the toilet.

The taste of bile mixed with booze strong on his tongue as he feels absolutely disgusted with himself. Only increased as he can feel something sticky slowly oozing out of his hole. He wants to scream, to claw at his chest to get rid of that lump buried there.

But he doesn't.

Instead he's left by the toilet, trembling with feverish clattering teeth. He's sobered up by now, although perhaps it’d been better if he hadn't. For now, he's left with these self-loathing thoughts, because how could he have been this weak. Only with a few drinks in his system come crawling back to Liam, practically begging the other boy to fuck him.

He's covered in come, both his own and Liam's, the sticking sensation making him feel disgusting and used.

He’s able to grab a large towel and buries himself in it, before his legs give out underneath him. The last bits of energy he still had all ebbs out. He pulls his knees to his chest, hiding his face as silent tears fall down his cheeks. Because this is not what he wanted. He’d wanted it honest and sincere, not some dirty little cheating scandal. Not a drunken fuck and a secret to be kept in the dark.

There's a knock on the door, an all too familiar cracked voice on the other side.

“Zayn...?”

Liam's voice has something he's quite unable to name run through him, but he can't bring himself to answer. He could, but he doesn't have the energy to deal with any of this right now. He just wants to close his eyes and allow the oblivion of sleep overtake him.

“Zayn, please I'm so sorry-…” and the words break out into a heavy sob. Something twists inside Zayn as he can hear Liam crying on the other side of the door. Something that has him wanting to rip his heart out of his chest because it shouldn't be allowed to hurt this much.

“Please open I want… I want to talk to you...”

The sound of Liam's sobs is clearly audible through the door, and although it breaks Zayn, he can't bear the thought of getting up. “Zayn… please forgive me.”

“Please”

Liam whispers once more as there's a sound of something heavy sliding down the door. Zayn imagines him sitting there, heavily leaned against the door, sobbing into his hands.

And Zayn hugs himself even tighter. Tries with desperation to hold himself in one piece, as his heart shatters into a million sharp pieces.

 

||>~<||

And then the only thing left to do

Is to try to once more collect the pieces remaining

||>~<||

 

He must've somehow fallen asleep, for when he once more open his eyes, he's greeted with warm strokes of sunlight falling down upon him. His face feels weirdly swollen and his eyes are sticky with dried out tears. His head throbs dully, both from the alcohol and the crying.

It's with a sigh that he steps into the shower, washing away both come and tears. Feeling the immense relief of being clean, at least physically.

As he steps out into the room, all he's greeted with is a neatly made bed and his clothes from yesterday laying folded upon it. Zayn actually feels a great relief, that he doesn't have to face Liam.

He gets into his clothes before checking his phone, only to find numerous missed calls and texts from both Liam and Harry. Instead of bothering to call back, he dials Paul's number and arranges with transport back to his flat in London.

 

||>~<||

The only thing that can be done

To save what's left to be saved

||>~<||

 

Zayn's out in his kitchen, with its clean, barely used surfaces. Eyes off somewhere in the distance, a cold emptiness clawing at his insides. The only thing breaking the silence is the dove sound of the kettle being turned on.

There's a calming routine to this, the familiar way of making his tea. His fingers move on their own accord, taking down his favourite cup, pouring the boiled water into it and adding the little bowl with the tea mixture that his mom sent him for Christmas.

This hollow feeling strong within him, making his thoughts feel like a grey blob, a great nothingness like a heavy fog wrapped around him. As if he's in a slumber where nothing really matters. He can see the world around him, although he doesn't quite register the meaning of it.

After exactly four minutes, he removes the little bowl from the cup, bringing it to his lips. The hot tea burns his tongue, but he continues to drink, enjoying the way it makes him feel at least something.

Then suddenly, there's this heavy knock on the door. He ignores it, but seconds later there's the sound of a familiar voice calling from the other side of the door.

“Hey Zayn I know you're there. Open up.”

Zayn hesitates for a beat, before he with slow steps makes his way towards the door. As he swings it open, he's greeted with messy hair and a set of blazing blue eyes.

“Oh you've made tea, perfect!”

Louis greets him with a nod towards the mug clasped between Zayn's long fingers, before he with long strides makes his way into the kitchen. Zayn blinks before he seats himself on his favourite couch, figuring that Louis will join him soon enough.

Which he later also does, with a cup held in his lean hands. He throws himself upon the same couch as Zayn, leaning against the armrest while resting his feet in Zayn's lap. Zayn rises an eyebrow in Louis’ direction, but only gets a grin in return.

“You know that you can't keep this up right?”

Louis says matter-of-factly, while sipping his tea. Zayn frowns towards him.

“Keep what up?”

He asks with a low voice, lacking of any emotion, that sluggish grey still in a layer between him and the rest of the world.

“Don't play dumb on me Malik. Hiding here like a scared chicken, avoiding everyone just because it's easier.”

Zayn looks down into the darkish browns of his tea. Eyes picking out shapes and figures that aren't really there. He somewhere knows that Louis is right, although he doesn't really want to admit it, even to himself. He’s ignored every call since he got back here, preferring silent nights in, watching bad shows on the telly.

“I haven’t felt like talking to anyone.” He just says instead, sipping his tea as if the matter was solved with that.

“Because of what happened with Liam?”

At Louis’ words Zayn stiffens, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Louis’ relaxed posture. His following words sharp with an almost threateningly edge to them.

“What do you know about that?”

“Nothing so you can calm your tits, it's not like anyone tells me stuff anyways. The two of you have been all silent about what happened.” Louis says defiantly, but with an almost bitter tone painting his words.

Zayn can feel himself relax at those words. He actually feels relieved that Liam haven't gone round and talked to everyone about what transpired that night. He goes back to his tea, which now has a pleasant temperature. He takes a large sip, feeling it warm its way down his throat.

“So… what happened?”

Zayn closes his eyes in annoyance for a beat, before his narrowed gaze meets Louis’ own.

“We fucked, alright. And that's that.”

He's almost disappointed with Louis’ reaction. He'd been expecting him to be spurting out his tea in chock, or at least to look aghast. But instead he just gets a thoughtful look in return.

“Figured as much.”

And now it's instead Zayn who’s taken aback in surprise, coughing as the tea gets stuck in his throat. A weak “What?” managing its way past his lips.

“Oh come on. The two of you have been all over each other for years, and before Danielle got into the picture… well it wasn't like you two were any discreet about it.”

When Zayn doesn't say anything, Louis continues.

“So get your shit together Malik, for even if he doesn't want to admit it, even to himself, that kid is head over heels fallen for you.”

And how the fuck do you answer that?

 

||>~<||

Sooner or later you'll recoil into yourself  
Hide away

It's a self-preservation thing you see  
Not to get hurt again

||>~<||

 

Zayn and Louis are at Louis’ place, a bag of crisps between them and emptied cans of beer laying spread across the floor. They are comfortably leaned against the couch, greasy fingers frantically pressing the controls to the x-box in their hands.

“Malik, you slower than my old nan’s on her morning walk!”

“Shut it you n’ taste this”

“Hey what the hell! You hit me with a banana”

“Kind of the point actually, just saying.”

(And yes they are playing mario cart)

“Hey Zayn, by the way,” Louis said after the game (which Zayn won by the way, morning walk my ass) “have you thought anything about what Danielle sent?”

There’s a slight narrowing of Zayn's eyes, a hardness of his mouth, at the mentioning of her name. It has a sour taste to spread on his tongue as he looks up from his control, frowning in confusion at Louis. Not really getting what he's talking about.

“Thought about what?”

Now it's Louis who looks at Zayn in confusion. Putting down the control to focus fully on Zayn.

“You know, the text she sent the other week about Liam's surprise birthday party that she has planned, she sent it to like everyone….” Louis pauses for a beat, as if something just hit him, “Oh no she didn't. That little bitch.”

Louis looks furious but Zayn just has this empty feeling in his chest. The sound of Liam's name has him wanting to claw at the hollow feeling within his chest. They still haven't talked, although Zayn must admit that it's mostly his fault. Liam's called a few more times, but Zayn hasn't had the energy to pick up. Truth to be told he's been a bit scared, Louis’ words loud in his ears, because what if Louis was wrong? What if he wasn't?

He should have suspected this much, really. He doesn't know if Liam has told Danielle yet of what happened, but he knows that she's never really trusted Zayn. Perhaps realising better than Liam ever has, that Zayn's attachment to Liam wasn't really of a straight through friendly nature.

He sighs heavily. “I don't think I would have gone even if she invited me.” He states quietly, fingers fidgeting with the control in his lap.

Louis blue eyes study his features intently, as if searching for something. “But this is Liam's birthday we're talking about, why on earth wouldn't you want to go?”

“I don't think he'd want me there.” His voice weak so he coughs before continuing. “Plus I'd have to watch him together with Danielle the whole night which I'd rather prefer not to, actually.”

Louis is silent for a while as he seems to pounder Zayn's words. And Zayn sighs, lazily stretching himself into a more comfortable position. He stares lazily at the ceiling between half closed eyelids. Just as Zayn thought that Louis had dropped the subject, he speaks up once more.

“Well if you're not going, I won't either.”

And nothing Zayn said after managed to change Louis’ already made up mind.

 

||>~<||

The last thing you need  
Is that betrayous feeling of hope

Although that's also what you most of all  
So dearly wishes for

||>~<||

 

“Can you make sure that he gets this?”

Harry and Zayn stands by the door of Zayn's flat. Zayn's leaning heavily against the frame, nervously fidgeting with a closed envelope between his long fingers. And there's suddenly a lump of nerves in his throat, a shiver to his breath.

The envelope contains Liam's birthday present, a gift card from Zayn’s favourite tattoo parlour, worth of a medium sized tattoo. When he bought it, he was sure that Liam would love it, although now when the time has come to actually hand it over, he's not that sure anymore. What if Liam hates his gift?

There’s this shiver to his fingers, a nervousness that has him hesitate in his movements. He closes his eyes for a beat calming his vigorously pounding heart. He then resentfully hands the envelope over to Harry, who carefully pockets it.

“You know that I will.” Harry says with a comforting dimpled smile.

Zayn hesitates before he continues, something rushed in his voice once he speaks. A desperation to be understood. His heart pounding heavily in his chest.

“And tell him that I'd wish to be there but… I just couldn't.”

Harry nods, an “Of course.” upon his lips as he wraps his arms around Zayn in a warm hug. Zayn relaxes into Harry's embrace, feeling the nervousness lift a bit. Harry's large green eyes meets his own, a reassuring dimpled smile upon his lips, before he turns and walks off into the cold autumn evening.

(And later during the night, Zayn's face is covered by a huge grin as a text lits up his phone. A warmth spreading somewhere along where his heart should be, a flutter of something he can't quite name in his gut.

‘Thanks Zee, u know me well :p xx’)

 

||>~<||

A fickle piece of hope

Is all that's needed to light that heart ablaze all over again

||>~<||

 

It's a bit pathetic really, the way the two of them later that night, are wasted on booze and perhaps a little bit high on something Louis brought to smoke. They're out on Zayn's balcony, cosily wrapped up in large hoodies, drinking in the freshly cold autumn air. Laughing at the way the star covered sky wraps so funnily around them.

Zayn leans heavily into Louis side, a bit unsteady on his feet as he covers a snort into the other boy’s neck. His fingers are tightly clutched around the bottle of booze. He shudders by a sudden whiff of cold air as he absentmindedly takes a sip or two from the flask. A grin upon his lips as he feels the world swim before his eyes.

“You know what?”

Zayn's voice is all dragged out, his words slurred. Gripping his long fingers around Louis’ wrist, tugging at it until Louis glazed eyes meets his own. Louis’ slow “What?” comes out all too loud, a sly grin on his lips.

“I think we should call him, say congrats.”

Louis’ eyebrows knot together in thought. Pondering what Zayn just said, before his face is lit up by a huge grin.

“Yeah, I think we should.”

Zayn stumbles a bit as he searches with eager hands for his phone. There's a laugh on Louis’ lips as he reaches out to steady him. Zayn blinks slowly, a grin on his lips as he finally finds the phone. His blurry vision just makes out the number dial, as he slowly taps in Liam's number. He then hits the speaker button.

Then the only sound breaking the silence around them is long beeps of the signal going through.

“Hello?”

Zayn's heart rate picks up at the sound of the all too familiar sound of Liam's voice on the other end. Zayn wobbles a bit on his feet, crashing into Louis as he tries to seat himself down onto a chair.

“Hellooo”

Zayn answers in a slurry voice, mocking Liam's tone. A grin to his lips.

“Zayn? Is that you?”

“No.” Zayn says with a giggle, missing Louis’ attempt to an high five with a few inches. Causing both of them to break out in fits of laughter.

“Zayn are you drunk?”

Liam's voice on the other end sounds worried.

“Perhaps a lil bit.” Zayn slurs with a large grin. “But that's beside the point. We jus’ wanted to say happy birthday.” He hiccups by the last words.

“Happy birthday!” Louis shouts a little bit after Zayn says it. A little bit off. He then presses a giggle to the side of Zayn's neck. And Zayn reaches out to high five him again, this time actually succeeding to hit the other boy’s hand.

“Zayn I've been trying to call you, but you never picked up…” Liam's voice is weak now and it breaks by the last words. His words filled with emotion.

“Well, I didn't want to talk to you.” Zayn says slurrily to the phone clutched between his long fingers. A defiant set to his brow now and an annoyed gleam in his eyes as he stares down on the phone.

“You have every right to hate me Zayn, but I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry.” Liam's voice is barely more than a whisper now. But all Zayn can think of is the word hate. Because even if the whole world around him is spinning, he knows that he doesn't hate Liam. How could he ever hate Liam? He's ashamed of himself for his weakness, but he doesn't blame Liam for what happened.

“I don't hate you.” His words less slurry now. Because Liam needs to understand. It's the only thing that matters.

“Well you should hate me. What I did to you the other night is unforgivable. From the moment we kissed l lost all control... I couldn't stop myself and I'm sorry for that, I -...”

But then suddenly his voice is interrupted by a sharp shrieking voice.

“Who's that you're talking to?!”

Zayn and Louis almost falls out of their chairs by the sudden loud voice on the other end. Zayn blinks once. His dulled brain slow to catch up. But he somewhere recognizes that voice. He and Louis staring wide-eyed at each other, mouths agape.

“Who was that you were talking to? Who was that that you kissed and god knows what else?!”

There's a heavy silence on the other end. After what feels like an eternity there's a whisper breaking the silence, clearly audible in the silence of the cold starry night. One simple word, one name.

“Zayn.”

And then hell breaks loose. The piercing sound of Danielle screams fills the autumn night air around them. Words like “whore” and “cheater” crystallizes from the jumbled mess of threats and accusations. Zayn and Louis looks at each other with a nod and Zayn fumbles with the phone until he's able to hit the right button and hang up.

Then they sit like that, frozen for a few beats. Zayn unable to cope with what they just overheard. Liam and Danielle fighting, because of… him? His eyes off somewhere in the distance. Thoughts way beyond the reach of the horizon.

“We should… we should go get some sleep.” Louis slurry murmurs. “Come on Zayn, get up.” His arm grabs hold of Zayn's shoulder, pulling him up on his feet. Together they stumble through the balcony door, holding onto each other in a world that spins around them.

And around Zayn it seems to spin in more than one way.

(And later when Zayn's just about to fall asleep, with Louis’ heavy snores close by, he can't stop that small sense of hope to spread like warmth deep within his chest.)

 

||>~<||

But still, It’s that hope  
That can do the impossible

To heal what's been broken  
In a way nothing else can

||>~<||

 

It's the worst hangover of his life, he swears to God. As his bloodshot eyes blink open it's like thousands of knives pierces through his brain all at once. The sunlight shining through the windows making the headache a hundred times worse.

He hisses as he rises himself into a sitting position, wanting nothing else to claw at his head to get rid of the piercing pain. His eyes fall upon the sleeping shape of Louis on the other side of the bed and it isn't until then that the memories from the previous night returns to him.

An embarrassment paints his cheeks in a darker colour as he remembers how pathetic he'd been. Got all wasted just because he couldn't stand the thought of Liam together with Danielle. It doesn't get any better when he remembers that idiotic phone call, and the all too familiar sound of the other boy’s voice. He can't believe that he ever could be that stupid, how he could lay his vulnerability on full display like that.

And then he remembers the sound of Danielle's shrill screaming voice on the other end.

He honestly has no idea what to make out of that. One part of him is filled with an impossible hope that perhaps something has shifted, but the other part is worried about how the fight may affect Liam. He groans as he forces himself up on his feet, desperately searching for something to take his mind off things. He almost falls over as he makes his way into the kitchen on stumbling feet. A nausea pressing somewhere underneath his chin as the world sways around him.

An aspirin and a tall glass of water later and he's nearly back to being human once more. He gets one glass for Louis as well before he heads back into the bedroom.

Louis isn't exactly happy to be woken up. He groans loudly with complaints, calling Zayn every unflattering name imaginable. Zayn rolls his eyes and hands the glass of water and the aspirin over to Louis, before heading back into the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. His black, and Louis’ with a pinch of milk.

As they're sitting hunched over their mugs later, both with heavy blues beneath their bloodshot eyes, everything is almost back to normal. It's the way it always has been.

Almost

Although Zayn won't admit it, that small piece of hope is still there. Spreading like a warmth in the regions where his heart used to be.

 

||>~<||

And sometimes,

A single call is all that's needed to put everything on its edge

||>~<||

 

Zayn’s sitting cross legged on the floor of his flat back in London. There's spray cans scattered all around him and his fingers are smeared with black, reds and blues. His eyes are fixed on the wall before him, where he moments ago were so entranced working.

His eyes take in the result. Among the lazily sprayed out figures is now a dominating image. And as he watches it, something claws at the insides of his chest. On the wall, before a background of night sky and the outlines of a city, is a sprayed out Image of Batman and Robin, sitting closely pressed together. But it's the words underneath that has him hug himself tightly.

“Only if you’ll be my Robin”

It has a hollowness to make itself known somewhere where his heart should be. Has him longing to fill that hole in his chest with brown crinkled eyes and a sunny smile.

But then, as he sits there, there's a buzzing sound, waking him as from a dream. In a daze he presses the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

There's a silence, before he can hear a cracked voice

“Zayn?”

And there's a flip in Zayn’s gut because he'd recognise that voice anywhere. The last weeks all forgotten for how could he ever be supposed to resist that voice.

“Liam.”

His voice breathless, eyes fixed on the brand new image on the wall. Something he's quite unable to name filling the depths of his gut.

“Zayn, could you… could you come here?... to my flat?”

There's something so utterly helpless about the way Liam barely whispers the words, that it has Zayn wanting to punch something. Has him wanting to scream out in desperation that no one has the right to make Liam sound like that. Has him wanting to fight the whole world just to protect Liam.

But instead he just says.

“I'll be there.”

 

||>~<||

It has you feeling whole,  
All over again

Although it's a dangerous game,

As it all at any time  
Can come crashing down once again

||>~<||

 

When he arrives at Liam's flat, it's with a box of pizza in one hand, and a few cans of beer in the other. He kicks off his shoes by the door and then walks further into the apartment.

“Liam?”

He calls out softly, eyes searching for the all too familiar shape of Liam as he goes.

“In here.”

It's weak but he still hears it coming from the bathroom. Zayn dumps his load in the kitchen, before he heads into the bathroom.

As he enters, a pair of brown eyes meets his, and has a wave of something he's quite unable to name makes its way through his bones. It's not until now, as he stares into those warm eyes that he realises how much he's actually missed the other boy. How incomplete he's been without him.

“Hi”

Liam says, his voice cracked and weak with a small smile upon his lips. But Zayn can't help but notice the redness of his eyes nor the plumpness of his cheeks, as if he only moments ago had been crying.

“I tried to do it myself but I… I couldn't.”

His voice is quivering at his last words, something almost desperate in his eyes now. And Zayn takes in the whole scene in front of him. Watches the clippers in the sink along with a few strands of brown curly hair.

“Will you help me?”

Liam's pleading now, his brown eyes big and staring into Zayn's own. Something tears at his heart at the utter helplessness in those eyes. Zayn takes a deep breath before speaking up once more.

“Alright.”

With a sigh, Liam's shoulders relax, as if he up until now had been holding his breath. Like a drowning man that finally had found something to hold on to.

Zayn grasps the clippers before he slowly, almost hesitantly, walks over to Liam. Gently caressing the tips of his fingers across the nape of Liam's neck. Zayn carefully brushes through some strands of brown curly hair, feeling the softness of it beneath his touch. Liam's tense neck relaxes underneath his fingers, and it's with a hum that he leans into the touch.

Zayn continues to brush through the hair with his fingers. Trying with soothing movements to make that tension in Liam's shoulders to disappear. Steadying his own raging heart with deap breaths.

“You sure about this?”

Zayn’s voice is soft, barely more than a murmur, as his fingers traces their way down Liam's back. He can feel a shudder beneath his touch, and a small smile spreads upon his lips.

“Yes.”

“Alright, you’ll have to bend your head over the sink then for me, babe.”

Liam follows his lead without any hesitation. Grasping the edge of the sink with strong hands. Their eyes meet in the mirror over the sink, and the huge amount of trust in those eyes has the last hesitation to sink away from Zayn's mind.

The clippers are turned on with a quiet hum. And then there's nothing except the buzzing of clippers meeting hair, and strands of curly hair falling into the sink. Zayn takes his time trimming Liam's head, careful though to leave some millimetres of hair behind.

When he's done, Zayn brushes away the last loose hair atop of Liam's head. As he does, his fingers brush over the short hairs still left. It's soft, and Zayn finds himself liking the prickling sensation of it underneath his fingertips.

“All done, Li.”

His voice is soft, the old nickname falling off his lips with ease. There's suddenly a nervousness forming a tight lump in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. Because what if this isn't at all what Liam had wanted. What if he, instead of having helped Liam, had made it all worse instead.

There's a silent beat when Liam takes in his new apparition in the mirror. As his eyes trails over the buzz cut, Zayn can't help but watch too. It looks a bit weird at first sight, but as he grows accustomed to it, he can't help but notice how the shorter cut makes Liam's face look sharper. There's something more mature about him, without the former curls, and Zayn can't help but like it.

“I-…”

And then Liam silently starts to cry. And Zayn has no idea what to do with himself. His fingers shake as he runs them through his hair, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“Come here.”

Zayn says with more determination than he feels. He wraps an arm around Liam's shoulders and leads him out of the bathroom to the couches, where he pulls him down. It's with a heavy sigh that Liam nuzzles his head into the crook of Zayn’s neck. Zayn wraps his arms around the other boy, stroking soothing circles over his back, as his t-shirt gets wetter by the second.

He tries to slow down his heartbeat, although his insides are in a complete mess. But he wills himself to be the steady rock Liam needs right now. Some part of him desperately wants to know what's the cause of all of this, if he's done something wrong, although deep down he knows what all of this is about.

He has his guesses, although he won't put them into words. Something about a whispered name in a starry night and piercing screams to follow. His heart aches for the other boy, like Liam's pain is somewhat transmitted to himself. He wills his own panic to surrender, and instead just holds the younger boy close to his chest. He hugs him tight, stroking soothing circles on his back, as silent tears wet the front of his shirt.

They sit like that for a long time, until Liam's tears run dry and he relaxes into Zayn's embrace. Zayn's fingers play over Liam's back, lazily painting out figures and shapes. Questions hanging unsaid on his lips, but he locks them down with a closely shut mouth.

After what could be an eternity or no time at all there's a growling noise erupting somewhere from the regions of Liam's stomach. A small smile spreads upon Zayn's lips as he seats himself up a little bit straighter.

“Will you be alright if I leave you for a sec?”

Zayn's eyes intently watch the slump figure in his arms, a tightness in his chest. Liam's voice is cracked with a weak “I guess.” falling off his lips. And it has something to form a knot in the pit of Zayn's gut. Liam’s vulnerability has him to want nothing else than to fight the whole world for Liam's sake. To protect him.

Zayn gets up with a gentle stroke of lean fingers across Liam's back. He walks into the kitchen, picking up the cans of beer and the box of pizza. Balancing them in his hands before he once more heads back to the living room. The cartoon stiff beneath his touch as he flips it open before Liam. There's a sigh upon his lips as he seats himself upon the couch once more. The only sound breaking the silence is the cracking sound of two cans of beer being popped open.

They sit like that in silence for a while, Liam slowly nibbling on a piece of pizza, with eyes somewhere off in the distance. Completely lost in the depths of the thoughts consuming him. Zayn is leaned against the back of the couch, impossibly close to Liam, eyes intently watching the other boy.

It's with a heavy sigh that Liam slumps his head onto Zayn's shoulder and nuzzles into his side. Liam grabs a hold of Zayn's hand before taking a deep breath of air down his lounges, as if bracing himself.

And then he talks.

He tells Zayn about everything. Jumbled together words as he describes Danielle’s immediate suspicion every time he would mention Zayn's name. Of the quarrels and the arguments. He then tells him how everything got messed up after that night with Zayn. How it had consumed him with guilt, although some part of him didn't regret it at all. And then he tells Zayn about the night before on his birthday when she overheard the call.

It all wells up like river that just lost its dems.

He tells Zayn about how it blew up into a huge fight, and how she'd rushed out of the party, telling him it all was over and how she never wanted to see him again.

How she never returned his calls.

He then tells Zayn about that one time she actually answered, only to repeat what she'd already told him.

That it was all over.

And finally, how she'd come to his apartment to pick up her stuff, treating him like piece of dirt on the floor. Something worth less than a fly on the windowsill. How she'd barely looked at him, not even found him worthy of a word in his direction.

And how in the end, he didn't know anyone else to call but Zayn.

Liam talks and he talks, words spilling unfiltered in a jumbled together mess. With his words painting up the chaotic world around him.

And Zayn listens.

 

||>~<||

Although once in awhile

That hope turns out to be based in reality

||>~<||

 

For a week, straight Zayn stays in Liam's apartment. It's comfortable to name it with one word. It's amazing how they just work, and always have done. Boring things like going grocery shopping turns into a fun and eventful adventure together with Liam.

Zayn finds himself living in the moment together with Liam. He is enjoying each day for what it is, instead of longing after something that he does not have.

The thing is that he's perfectly content with this. He's content with having his best friend by his side once more. That, he has come to realise, in the end, is all that matters really. The long weeks without his friend by his side, both too painful and too fresh in his memory, are enough to make him terrified of having to relive it again. The fear of losing the other boy as his friend petrifyingly strong within him.

He knows now that this is in the end what matters the most. That he can be here with Liam, with his best friend, right now in the present. What the future may hold matter less to him now than ever. He had come to realise how he has lived too much of his life hoping for what may be, instead of being glad what there already were.

He is together with Liam once more, and that is what matters the most.

They don’t do much that week really. No eventful nights nor any adventurous trips. Instead they just settle for quiet nights in, watching old superhero movies and just enjoying the fact that they are together. Nothing about the week is eventful, and with that they are both perfectly content.

It’s late one of those nights that something shifts though. They’re seated in one of the couches, lazily watching a rerun of some old show on mute. Zayn's mouthing along with every line the actors have. Which after a while earns him a gently swat on the back of his head, when Liam thinks he's taking it all a little bit too far.

They're cosily cuddled up together and Zayn's fingers play over the top of Liam's head. He enjoys the prickling feeling of the short hairs beneath his touch (he's not getting obsessed, alright).

(Not yet at least)

They sit like that in silence, until it's broken by Liam's unusually soft voice:

“Hey Zayn?”

Zayn takes his eyes away from the telly at the sound of his name. Turning his head towards Liam and looking down upon him, a curiosity in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

He answers. A small smile upon his lips at the nervousness he can sense hiding somewhere in Liam's features. His voice is curious, interested in what Liam has to say. His eyes staring into Liam's warm brown ones.

“You're a good person Zayn, you know that right?”

And Zayn doesn't really know how to answer that. Instead he just stares into Liam's warm eyes with confusion in his own. A soft hand caresses Zayn's cheek and he can't help but lean into the touch with a soft hum. His heart takes a leap in his chest as he realizes how close Liam’s face is to his own. Close enough that he can feel the warmth of Liam's breath upon his cheek. But he doesn't dare to move, he sits there like a statue of ice, terrified of scaring the other boy away.

Their gazes are locked, and Zayn can sense something intense about the eyes which are staring back into his own. Something flips in his gut, a nervousness making something big to form in the depths of his throat. The breaths which escape between his lips are irregular, shallow pants. His pulse loud in his ears.

Slowly Liam leans in towards him, something that makes Zayn feel like his heart is about to leap out of the depths of his chest. And when their lips finally meet, Zayn can't stop that soft moan which escapes him. There's such a relief in the sensation of kissing Liam again, like drawing that first breath of air after being underneath the water for way too long. And it all just feels right, as if he's finally found his way home.

It's not rushed like the last time. No, instead it's soft and gentle. Zayn's eyes flutter closed to take it all in. To enjoy the way their lips fit together like two parts of a whole. It's mind-blowingly slow, the way they're gradually deepening the kiss. There's something so immensely intense between them, which has his blood to run hot like iron in his veins. A warmth in his chest somewhere where his heart should be.

And later in the warmth of Liam's bed between soft sheets, there's still no rush. It's all the gentleness of a patient love, strong and withstanding. Zayn is once again amazed how well they just fit. A low hum of content from the depths of his very being at the relief of Liam's body tightly pressed against his own. A shudder of something he can't quite name spreads through his bones as the word home is back in his mind once again.

An undoubtful trust in the eyes of the sunny boy he loves. Soft fingers caressing the tension of a naked back. And then there's nothing else than a mind-blowing pleasure. Something raw tearing at his insides because this is nothing like he ever has experienced before. The chase is gone. Although the pleasure is only intensified. It's all so hot and raw and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Some part of him terrified that this is too good to be true.

But as they both reach their release a calmness settles in the depths of Zayn's gut. Something undoubtedly like love spreads like a burning warmth, filling him like rays of sunshine as Liam's arms hugs him close to his chest. He goes completely slack in the arms of the boy he has been in love with for years. He feels warm and safe in a way he hasn't felt before. A warmth settling in his bones because he finally has found his way home.

But he doesn't say the three words on the tip of his tongue. He instead holds them back, keeps them close to his heart. Allowing them deep within himself, to be where he before so desperately had built his walls to shut them out.

They stay there where they burn with all the clarity needed.

There is no need to rush. They have all the time in the world.

 

||>~<||

Sometimes, our hopes aren't all for nothing

Sometimes they’ll heal us for good

||>~<||

 

Early that following morning, as the birds still chirp in the reds of a crisp autumn sky, they go to the tattoo parlour. They call in the other guys and they all bundle up inside the small dark room, filled with inky drawings and complex patterns.

Louis is the last one to arrive. His piercing blue eyes instantly finding Zayn where he sits in one corner, an arm slung around Liam’s shoulder, holding the other boy close to his chest. Louis opens his mouth, but instead of anything Zayn would have imagined him to say, he throws Zayn completely off guard with his words.

“Horan cough up, you owe me twenty pounds.”

Zayn’s brows furrow in confusion as he tries to put the pieces together. Because what…? He’s hesitant, but there really aren’t any other explanations to Louis’ words.

“You… you made a bet on... us?”

Zayn's words are slow, hesitant. Louis smiles back at him, without any trace of being the least apologetic. His grin only winding when Zayn sends him a raised eyebrow.

“Made a twenty of Niall s lack of eyes.” his words are accompanied with a wide satisfied grin as Niall resentfully hands him over the money. Zayn rolls his eyes because he isn't that surprised really. A heavy sigh as he can't stop that amused smile that spreads upon his lips.

“You know what. This room creeps me out.” Niall says as his eyes are fixed on some pictures hanging on the walls. Harry, Zayn and Louis burst out laughing, and Harry says something about Niall’s lack of experience along with a hand ruffling though dyed blonde hair.

Although Zayn could quite get what Niall was getting at. The small smoky room, dark with tinted windows and graphic photos and drawings on the walls, had scared the fuck out of him the first time he went here. But now the familiar atmosphere has instead an excitement to form in his chest. So Zayn hugs Liam closer to his chest, keeps impossibly close to the other boy, wanting him to feel at ease. His lips close to Liam's ear as he murmurs “You decided what you want yet?”

Liam nods with a proud smile. He points towards a drawing of a simple arrow on the wall. “Four of that arrow on my forearm, one for each one of you guys.”

A cackling sunny laugh fills the room as Niall makes his way over to them. “Will they all be pointing in one direction too?” Niall asks with a huge grin, ruffling a hand over the short hairs upon Liam’s head. A blush paints Liam's cheeks red as he hides his face against Zayn's chest.

“Shut up” Liam murmurs against the fabric of Zayn's shirt. Amused chuckles fill the small room, and Zayn's chest shakes with suppressed laughter. “That includes you as well Zee.” Liam looks up with a frown upon his lips his eyes glaring into Zayn's own. Zayn shoots a grin towards the boy in his arms.

“We’re just messing with you, everyone here secretly love your idea, just won’t admit it.” His voice soft, thumb caressing Liam's bushy brows knotted together in a frown.

When words don’t help, he leans down to kiss that frown away from Liam's lips. He smiles as Liam's hand grasps around the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss along with a satisfied sigh. Zayn's eyes flutter closed as he hums because he doesn't think he ever will get enough of this. The sensation of kissing Liam feels too good for him ever to be fully content.

Something hits Zayn on the back of his head, accompanied with a groan of “Oh please get a room, will you?” that sounds awfully a lot like Louis. Without disrupting the kiss, Zayn lazily flicks him off with a middle finger over his shoulder.

A low hum escapes Zayn as Liam lightly tugs at the hairs in the nape of his neck. His smiling lips stay attached to Liam's own for a while longer, before he slowly withdraws them. His eyes are captured in the warmth of Liam's own. The sweet taste of Liam's mouth still blissfully strong on his tongue.

When he's finally able to look away once more, he shoots off a smirk towards Louis. “I guess you’ll just have to get used to it.” Zayn says before his eyes get trapped in the depths of Liam's warm ones once more.

It's not until then that the realisation really hits him. Because yes, the others will have to get used to this. Because this time, Liam really is his to keep. That means no hiding, no dirty secrets to be held in the darkness of the night, never to be spoken of again. No more of that. Never again.

A bright smile spreads across his face, as he stares down at the boy he has loved for years. He watches his warm brown eyes, crinkled with joy. He watches the way his plump lips are parted in a huge mind blowing smile. He watches Liam as a warmth spreads in his chest. Because if he has a say in this, there won't ever be anyone else for him than this boy. This boy in his arms of crinkled eyes and sunny smiles, is everything he'll ever need.

And when Liam later sits in the chair, a man with ink all over his skin calmly working on his tattoo, they all bundle up around him. Zayn holds Liam's hand in his, whispering consoling words in his ear every time the other boy winces. His eyes not leaving Liam’s for a second.

Zayn watches Liam, as his warm gaze stares into Zayn's own. Something warm spreads in the depths of his chest. A sense of home makes its way through his bones even though he's miles away from the city where he grew up. A realisation hits him with the force of a thousand bricks. That home is where Liam is.

And now, Zayn is no longer longing.

Instead there's a warmth in his heart as that hole he for so long longed to fill, finally is complete. He found his way home at last. In the arms of a beautiful boy with a sunny smile.

Zayn watches Liam, and Liam watches Zayn as well, neither of them ever seen anything more beautiful.

(And Zayn won't ever forget how Liam later whispers in his ear, as they're cosily cuddled up together, between kisses and laughs as they're admiring the brand-new ink “But you are the first one. You'll always be my favourite, Zayn.”)

 

||>~<||

Because maybe in the end,  
it is that hope

That keeps us human

Perhaps it's that hope,  
which makes us capable

To fall in love

||>THE END<||

**Author's Note:**

> Hello you wonderful person who's read through this angsty mess of a fic. Please tell me what you thought and your opinions on it, it'd be highly appreciated <3
> 
> I dearly hope that you find that the reading was worthy of your time.
> 
> Please comment or leave kudos if you enjoyed it.
> 
> If you want to contact me in any way I'm on tumblr as ZiamFeather 
> 
> Once again thank you so much for your time <3 I love you


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